MAN CAVE

                                       

      

                       MAN CAVE

Most guys have a Man Cave or a place with that name.

A place they can go for their emotions to tame.

To some it is just a closed door, and to some it is a sign

That says “do not enter”, which seems so benign.

Some caves say No Trespassing, or Private or just Keep Out,

What happens in here, stays here, “You Shout.”

Young males love a Man Cave, or so it seems,

But Mom comes in and makes a mess as she cleans.

As Males get older their caves seem to evolve

Into a place you can go to read or write or a mystery solve.

It could be a garage or a spare room or a place just for you.

A place to “hang out” and to do just what you want to do.

In a garage you may turn some bolts on an old V-8,

But some people won’t do that because the grease they hate.

The Man Cave could be full of fitness gear, for those not to old.

I wouldn’t know but that’s what I have been told.

Most Man Caves gather collections of “Things” as they grow

Things that in the garbage, you don’t want to throw.

They are a sanctuary of sorts for a male to hang out

With electronics and paper and stuff scattered about.  

In my case if I cannot sleep at night, I toss and turn, and give up the fight.

I crawl out of bed, sneak down the hall, shut the door and turn on the light

In my Man Cave sanctuary, for a few hours or ALL NIGHT.

I wonder what others would think, as I sat in my “unders” would it be a sight?

There is saying now days, “I just want to do my thing.”

Until the cell phone disturbs me with its “bling, bling.”

Then my feet seem to say, “Do we have to stay cold?”

So I turn up the space heater to 80, why not be bold?

My electronics are now ready as I gaze everywhere.

The red lights are blinking, the orange ones just “stare.”

The screen savers keep staring at me, and they seem to say,

Are you going to use us or are you just here to play?

My wife used to tell me, “this place is a disgusting mess.”

“If you don’t take anyone in there, it will be OK I guess”

She seemed to forget she had a craft room you see,

And it was known as “The Junk Room” to the family and me.

I sit in my Man Cave and look out the window to see

The snow is falling and the wind is blowing the leaves from the tree.

I am comfy and warm and my space heater doth glow

And if the blinds were pulled I would not know about the snow.

I do lots of different things in this Man Cave of mine.

What I do is constructive, at least most of the time.

I keep track of my blogs, and my Android keeps beeping,

But most of the time I search for the dead, for my record keeping.

Genealogy is addicting, as I seek out the names to my record I post.

Of the things I do in my Man Cave I cherish genealogy the most.

In the middle of the night or mid-day they call

Come on and find us, please come and find us all.

MY Man Cave was not planned, it seemed just to evolve,

And I spend most of my days there trying mysteries to solve

About dead people, and places and feelings that abound,

Of friends, family, and feelings all around.

W.R. Baldwin 25 Nov 2014