My wife and I recently had a mortgage meeting = this poem.
So much more serious than half-finished imperatives:
I do what?
I do not
How words, secondhand,
Are supposedly as grand
As all of these intricate, fiscal plans.
Every word’s purpose explained to the nervous
Who listen with heads bent and fears:
More solemn than a Big Day:
No witnesses to sit and say
How nervous we are,
To sit and see
The future’s foundations on dual P60s,
Six slips of pay, two passports and bills,
Contracts that state that I Have and I Will.
Two wills too.
‘Til death do they part:
This is the start.
No well-worn words in Sunday best
Said partly in earnest.
(Lip service to services hence)
Just services rendered.
No middle of August –
The depths of September.
No well-worn words, integrity guessed.
Just a desk,
Let’s forget about Letting.
We sit and He vets, all progress and checking.
Nothing forgotten; no gaps for forgetting.
The God is in the detail
The aisle is in the while
It took from enquiry to His satisfied smile.
-Mr. Unseen F. Lirtations