dash

Must Have Lunch

How about lunch? No - not this week.
Work’s at a peak.
Whose turn? Sounds good.
Agreed - we should
ask our PAs to find a date.
Your new card? Great.
Promotion? Neat.
Looks a hot seat.
And hey - that ring. Hitched, I conclude?
Me? Not yet. Who’d
have me?  Whoops - now
I must dash. Ciao.

Christ, has it really been a year?
My fault, I fear –
so many trips
abroad, time zips
by. Where? Dubai, Mumbai, Brunei,
Shanghai . . .  Let’s try
again - on me
of course. I see
from the FT you’re on the move.
Well, I approve:
I had a hunch.
Yes, must have lunch.

Apologies - the diary’s hell.
In shape? All well?
Thanks - just the gym.
Ageing’s a grim
business. Children? You lucky guy . . .
I don’t think my
life would allow
all that, somehow.
We owe ourselves a real chinwag.
Barring some snag -
asap, a lunch . . .

Do you do brunch?

Tom Vaughan

This is a Minute poem - written in stanzas of 60 syllables, in a tight rhyming form. Apparently the form was designed for comic verse, but Tom has stretched it a bit.

If you have any thoughts on the  poem, or on the form,  Tom Vaughan  would be pleased to hear them.

logo