OUT NOW PLEASE

Tiny apartment, on the fourth floor,
Room for a desk, a bed, and a door.
The bed is quite spacious, the lighting quite nice
And there isn't a hint of pretention, or vice,
Just a boy, in his room,
Who wants to have fun.
So to the apartment I've come.

But there's a cloud,
A trap,
A triggered snare, lying in another room,
Hiding in the gloom of the dimmed lights,
Waiting to bite,
And force a gap,
Goes on the attack,
With a rap, a short sharp rap,
At the door.

We're engaged.
Clothes off for the boys.
He perks up his ears at the noise,
Sniffs the air, is made aware,
Tries not to lose his poise.
Fails.
Slinks away and bites his nails.
The trap resets.