Urban Planner


I once met a man with a very brisk manner,
Dressed pertly neat,
An urban planner.

Stikingly handsome, smart, fresh and clean,
Shiny hide on feminine feet.
Meticulous, if you know what I mean.

Slender fingers on mahogany desk, tapped tensely.
Shadowed pattern from hat stand,
Improved his office immensely.

His balding bony skull was closely shaved,
Ruby signet rings adorned both hands.
His eyes were vacant, as if they craved.

Air con murmured tediously, in the background.
Stale perfume gently wafted,
My senses falling, fading, ‘til they drowned.

I had no intention of an urban planning request,
My motives were cleverly crafted.
But now I was feeling somewhat distressed.

Woman, two kids and a baby, were framed
As a portrait, on the far wall.
So should it be he, or should it be me, to be blamed.

A week ago a colleague spied him with my wife,
On a bench in the park I recall.
A stolen kiss, a stolen hug and in my heart a knife.

Plans adrift, I eyeball the weasle, I shuffle and shift
By the door,
Wanting to flee, silent and swift.

‘I’m her husband.’ His fingers ceased drumming.
‘Her or the photo, what do you want more?’
Only sweaty silence and the air con humming.

I once met a man with a very brisk manner
Dressed pertly neat
An urban planner.

You never cease to amaze me, Sir Knight! I can see every moment of this little story. Vivid and brilliant, a portrait within a portrait in words, structured so cleverly. There's probably a name for that style - if anyone knows it, please let us know. I never did know much technical stuff about writing!

Good to see you, Rusty! Thanks for sharing!!

Love and Big Hugs,

Alice