There once was a place called Fort Batcave.
It was fun, warm and all the rave.
We built it of pillows,
to withstand all the billows
and to be a small home for this knave.
We suspended some blankets from rope.
It held up longer than hoped.
In it we ate meals,
laughed in loud peals
then left, for more places to scope.
The fort was a refuge from “bland”,
though in it, one hardly could stand.
Sometimes it was dark,
yet a flashlight - hark!
Would create light for two people, you understand.
“continue reading,” my foot! I click on the “continue reading” link and I’m directed to the comment page. Crafty. Very, verrry crafty.
Speaking of crafty, here is MY limerick about that time that Phil hijacked our fort so he could watch “family guy.”
Fort Batcave provided good cover
from the scrutinization of others.
But the fort, I could tell
worked a little too well;
one day, hidden inside was Tim’s brother.
Well played, old gal. Well played.
Oh, and that continue thing, I have no idea how it was put there or why it links here, but there it is; by no conscious act of my own.
I’m not old.
Batcave??? looks like a fort!
You know the kind kids make when playing house!
No, I think it resembles a nest…
do you guys have a Batmobile as well???