Revised sonnet #1382
You struggle single when you ping your prime
In stacks of work the wheels of commerce click
The city grants you decibels and grime
You want a man of substance sort of slick
The census claims one boy one girl its chime
Around the roads your eyes yank roam or flick
The milling mob is sensually sublime
You might just come across a country hick
You escalate you blank those boorish loud
At diary lunch you deal your dodgy diet
At food trays face to face you sit as quiet
If skinnier she appears then less endowed
The mood is intimate yet overcast
That nice enough young mother nudges past
Chorus overcast murky sombre