Man on the roof
There he goes hopping over the roof
golden body oiled against the sun
perching every now and again
quite still, observing.
His shorts, calf length
showing just a knot of muscle
flexing in agility
as he runs up and down the ladder
ringing my bell.
Blonde hair trickling on to
bare shoulders, lips pursed
in concentration
no sign of a hard hat.
I can almost hear the bulge
in his pocket throb
as he digs deep, pulls out his mobile
answers his call
and whistles to his mates.
Sally James
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