A Matter of Trust on a Summer's Day
Jane's mother said
she was up by the church
and so you went up
the path leading
to the church of St Mary
and there she was
laying some flowers
on a gravestone
she looked up
as you approached
and smiled
your mother told me
you were here
you said
I think Mother
must like you
she wouldn't
have told you
otherwise
Jane said
getting up
from the graveside
and brushing her hands
on her summery dress
who are the flowers for?
you asked
looking at the flowers
placed in a small jar
on the grave
a parishioner
we used to know
who used to like
this type of flower
oh I see
you said
looking at the graves around
and the Downs further back
and the trees nearby
where did you want to go?
you asked
how about a walk to Cocking?
we can do some shopping
while we're there
and enjoy each other's
company in the process
is it far? you asked
a mile or so
she replied
ok
you said
and you followed her
down the path
and along the lane
to her house
and you waited outside
while she went inside
after a few minutes
her mother came out
with her and said
it's very good of you
to go with Jane
all that way
I wouldn't like her
to go alone
that's all right
you said
and she smiled
and went in side
and Jane said
see she trusts you
not many boys
around here
she'd say that to
oh right
you said
looking at
her dark hair
and her eyes
gazing at you
and her hand
holding a shopping bag
and her lips
breaking into a smile
come on
she said and
so she took
your hand
and you walked
along the lane
keeping close
to the hedgerow
the sun warm
and the sky blue
and you sensed a joy
of it being
just her and you.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
Saturday Morning 1961
Jane climbed off
the Saturday bus to town
her black hair ruffled
by the wind
her eyes
looking over at you
her mother close by
you standing by the wall
having climbed from the bus
a few moments before
your mother stood
and spoke to others
you watched as Jane buttoned up
her coat against the winter cold
her fingers turning blue
then she moved over to you
and said
I saw you by the water tower last night
as we drove by
my father visiting
a parishioner in the village
I was watching the sun
moving beyond the Downs
you said
like some giant moving
away to sleep
she smiled
and surreptitiously
she touched your hand
her mother's head
looking the other way
talking to your mother
of her husband's work
of church or of weather
or whatever
you gazed at Jane's eyes
the turn of head
the smile on lips
the way her hands touched
oh to be with her
away from others
to talk and walk
and capture each moment
with her closeness
but then her mother
moved away to shop
and Jane followed
just behind
and as she walked away
you painted her figure
and beauty
in your mind.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Day Jane Fainted
Jane fainted in the town
by the coach
on Saturday morning
and her mother
and other women
were around her
and you stood
a little way away
wondering what
had happened to her
I think it must be
that time of the month
you heard one woman say
maybe
her mother said
but she's not usually
like this
she added
will she be all right?
you asked
bending down
next to one
of the women
who had gathered
her mother looked at you
and said
yes it happens
at certain times
of the month
oh right
you said
none the wiser
gazing at Jane
at her dark hair
her eyes closed
her features
white and sweaty
best give her some air
her mother said
and you all stood up
and her mother
fanned her
with her hat
then after a minute or so
Jane opened her eyes
and said
what happened?
I went all funny
and everything went white
you fainted
her mother said
waving the hat
in front of Jane's face
I want to get up
Jane said
and so you
and her mother
helped her
to her feet
and she leaned
against the wall
of the bank
and looked around
she'll be all right now
a woman said
it happens
another said
after a few minutes
they went off
to the shops
leaving you
and your mother
and Jane
and her mother
standing by the coach
I'll be all right now
Jane said
ok
her mother said
and you all walked
along the street
to the shops
Jane walking behind
with you
her hand stealthily
reaching down
for yours and giving it
a little squeeze
then releasing it again
looking up at the sky
which had become dark
threatening rain.
poem by Terry Collett
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What Others May Think.
Apart from the water tower
and the farm
and a few scattered cottages
there were no other buildings
for a mile or more
just you and Jane
and birds in the early morning sky
I like it at this time of day
she said
I like the fresh smell of nature
and the farm
and having few people about
you walked beside her down the lane
that led away from the farm
you noticed how her black hair
seemed freshly washed
and blew slightly in the mild wind
does you father mind
you being out with me?
you asked softly
he doesn't know
she replied
he thinks I came out alone
for a morning walk
why didn't you tell him?
you asked
he was busy writing his Sunday sermon
and it was easier to just go out
and not disturb him
she said looking around at you
her eyes studying you
as she walked on down the lane
would he mind you being with me?
you asked
I don't think he knows you as yet
seeing as you have only moved here
a few months and don't come
to the church
you stopped and took her hand in yours
it was warm and soft
and pulsed with life
she looked at your hand
holding hers and she rubbed
her thumb over the back
of your hand
you wanted to kiss her lips
or cheek just to feel
her flesh on yours
but you didn't you just looked at her
and waited to see
what she would do next
she let go of your hand
and looked around her
there might be people looking
from those cottages up there
she said suddenly pointing up
at the rising bank which went up
to two cottages high up
if they see us they may tell Father
and then it would be awkward
and he might suspect things
and then she went quiet
and looked at the running stream
by the lane
but we haven't done anything
we just walk out and talk
and hold hands now and then
it's not what we do
it's what others think we do
she said softly
and stood looking at you
waiting for you to speak
but you said nothing
just leaned in close to her
and kissed her cheek
and said
even Christ permitted kisses
even the one from Judas
and she smiled
and the early morning sun
pushed through trees
and shone on her hair
and there was the sound of birds
singing in the air.
poem by Terry Collett
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Jane and Bullfinch Eggs
Those are Bullfinch's eggs
Jane said
pointing at
the 5 eggs
in a nest
hidden in a hedge
and as she pointed
you imagined
that some god
modelled all female fingers
on that before you
how the nail was set
so perfectly
on the finger's tip
the colour pinkish white
the skin almost blending in
we mustn't disturb
she added
or the mother bird
will fly away
and not return
oh right
you said
gazing at the eggs
once her finger
had been removed
from the hedge
you studied
the pale blue eggs
speckled there
and sensed her presence
near your cheek
the lavender
that she wore
the way her hair dark
coming to her shoulders
was tied back
from her face
some collect them
Jane said
and pierce the top
and bottom
and blow through the contents
and have them on display
do they?
you said
seeing the sad expression
she wore
why is that?
you asked
she stood back
from the hedgerow
and looking at you
with her dark eyes
said
because they must have
they have to collect
what is there
for all to see
they must just have
for themselves alone
the May sun
was shining warm
and she took your hand
in hers and walked
you on along the lane
the small stream running
by the lane's edge
her grey skirt
and white blouse
and white socks
giving her a plain look
but her eyes lit up
and she smiled again
and you wanted
at that moment
as she held your hand
for that hour
to be there forever
not to be lost
thinking you knew then
the depth of love
and not its loss
of that
and feeling sense
and not the cost.
poem by Terry Collett
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Naming of Things.
That's a Small Skipper
Jane said
And that's a Clouded yellow
as two butterflies
flittered overhead
as you both lay
in the tall grass
on the side
of the Downs
and you followed
her finger
as it indicated
the butterflies' flight
and then they were gone
and she gazed at you
and said
What?
How do you know
the names of things?
I'm a country girl
not a townie like you
she replied
her lips moulding
the words like a potter
moulds clay
and you caught a whiff
of her perfume
carried on the calm breeze
over your heads
and you looked
at her there
in the grass
her head turned back
to the sky
her eyes reflecting
the summer blue
and her left leg
bent upwards
so that her knee
stood naked
beneath the sun
and her right hand
lay next to yours
the white blouse
open at the neck
and she said
I often used to lay here
alone listening
to the overhead birds
and the winds' moan
watching tractors
in the fields below
and mother wondering
where I was
And now?
you asked
Does she wonder
where you are now?
she turned her head
and gazed at you
No not now
she knows I'm with you
and that I'm showing you
the store of nature
and the panoramic view
And she trusts you?
you asked
sensing her hand
touch yours
the flesh warm
and soft
She trusts you
Jane said
and another butterfly
fluttered by
like a ballerina overhead.
poem by Terry Collett
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Mary Jane
Now when I go to work, I work all day,
Always turns out the same.
When I bring home my hard-earned pay
I spend my money all on mary jane.
Mary jane, mary jane, lord, my mary jane.
Oh if a man should look tame now, mean and mature,
They all turn out the same.
cause they cant do nothing to make a man feel good
Like my old mary jane.
Mary jane, mary jane, lord, my mary jane.
Now I walk in the street now lookin for a friend
One that can lend me some change.
And he never questions my reason why,
cause he too loves mary jane.
Mary jane, mary jane, lord, my mary jane.
Well, I have known women that wanted no man,
Some that wanted to stay.
But I never knew what happened in this world
Till I met up with mary jane,
Mary jane, mary jane, lord my mary jane.
Oh, when Im feelin lonesome and Im feelin blue,
Theres only one way to change.
Now I walk down the street now lookin for a man,
One that knows my mary jane,
Mary jane, mary jane, lord my mary jane.
song performed by by Janis Joplin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jane and You and the Hollow Tree.
Jane waited for you
by the narrow road
that led to Linch farm
the water tower visible
against the afternoon sky
of pale blue and white
cold clouds
she was dressed
in a grey coat
and her dark hair
was pinned back
with grips
you noticed
blueness
about her lips
the cold taking toll
wasn't sure
if you would show
she said
the coldness
and such
I said I would
and I say
what I mean
you replied
once you were close to her
she took her hands
out of the coat pockets
and linked her arm
through yours
where shall we go?
she asked
you know it better
around here than I do
you choose
you said
let's go up
the dust track
to the hollow tree
on the way up
to the Downs
she said
ok
you said
and so you walked along
and up the dust track
side by side
and she talked
of the wintery trees
and what birds
there were still about
and how she liked
spring best with the coming
of flowers and birds nesting
and you listened
looking at her
as she spoke
watching her lips move
how when she spoke
her white teeth showed
and now and then
her tongue would show
and it reminded you
of that kiss she gave you
up by Diddling church
as you stood looking
at the grave stones
and she gazed at you
and then kissed
and her tongue
touched yours
and it was like heaven
as if someone
had opened up
your heart
and stuck
their tongue in there
and as you thought
about that kiss
she talked of some girl
of a cowman
who'd got pregnant
and how did that happen?
she asked
and you said nothing
but listened on
and then you reached
the hollow tree
and climbed inside
and sat down
looking out
of the hole
in the side
and it felt cosy
in there
like a small home
and she leaned
in against you
and there was silence
and you looked at her
at her eyes
and hair
and how her lips
were parted
and her white teeth
showed and her tongue
waiting to speak
and you wondered
about that kiss again
and whether
it would happen this time
there in the hollow tree
out of sight
of others
and she showed you
tucked between
her small breasts
a small locket
which used to be
her mother's.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Drying of Hair.
Jane's mother gave you both
a towel from the airing cupboard
after you had been caught
in the rain
running from the church porch
to the parsonage
and then she went off
to carry on
with her pie making
and Jane took you
along the hallway
to her bedroom
and opened the door
and after you had entered
she closed the door
with a soft click
and you both stood there
in the quiet room
rubbing you heads
with the towels
pushing away
the wetness
from your hair
and you smelt the room
the smell of polish
the lavender scent
the smell
of fresh linen
and smell of the flowers
outside caught still
in the rain
and Jane said
You are only here
because she trusts you
she seems to see through
people's veneer
and weighs them
in the scales
in her mind
and you stood still
rubbing your hair
looking at her
the way she had
the towel in her hands
over her hair
the hair all messed up
and she having
that sparkle in her eyes
like the first spear
of the sunshine
pushing through
the window at dawn
and she gazed at you
with her eyes
like polished marbles
and her words
hung there
on the air
like musical notes
on an invisible stave
and you said
I'm glad she trusts me on
just the one look
and Jane smiled
and kissed your lips
her flesh on yours
and the pressing
of skin on skin
and she gently
moved away
and pointed to the sky
and said
Looks like more rain
and you just nodded
wanting her to kiss you
once again.
poem by Terry Collett
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Matter Of Beauty
That's Speedwell
and that's Red Sorrel
Jane said
pointing out
the wildflowers
as you both walked
down the lane
that led to the empty cottage
with apples trees
in the garden
and gooseberry bushes
in fruit by hedges
They all look the same to me
you said
Just flowers growing
she shook her head
and smiled and said
You townies
do you know nothing
of nature's beauty?
I'm looking at beauty now
you replied
and as you both walked on
down the lane
she in her summery dress
and you in your
open neck shirt
and faded jeans
you felt the morning sun
touching your head
like a fond mother
and the smell of flowers
and sound of birds
and she said
after a minute
or so of silence
Father says beauty
is only skin deep
real beauty lies
in a person's soul
if that soul is not blemished
by sin that is
and you looked at her
hand by her side
swinging as she walked
and the fingers curled
as if she held
something invisible
yet ready to throw
and you took in
her white ankle socks
above her brown sandals
and the calves of her legs
and her thighs
just showing
as the dress moved
and you breathed in deep
like one immersed
in water about to drown
of love or the feeling of such
and you said
I guess he's right
but I love the beauty
of skin pretty much
and she laughed
and her laughter
shooed off birds
from the tree tops around
who probably never heard
such a beautiful sound.
poem by Terry Collett
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Time to Lose.
She was there
in the church
arranging the flowers
at the altar end
where her mother said
she'd be when you knock
at the parsonage door
some moments back
and you entered
through the old oak door
into the silence
and smell of age and flowers
seeing her
in her summer dress
unaware you stood there
her hands touching
flowers in vases
moving them into place
an intenseness
on her face
you moved slowly
down the aisle
not wanting to disturb
or cause alarm
then Jane turned
and smiled and said
I've nearly done
and tapped the flowers
in the final place
Where shall we go?
You moved closer
to where she stood
and said
To Heaven
if we're good
they say
she shook her head
and said
I meant where
about outside?
Wherever you like
you replied
studying her hands
as she wiped them
on her summer dress
how the fingers lay
how some god
brought them
to such beauty
and her eyes
and hair
and her
just standing there
enough
you mused inside
not out
to bring one to a faith
of some creative god
and she said
Why do you stare?
What holds you
rooted there?
Let's go climb
the Downs and look across
the vast expanse
of fields and trees
and birds in air
just you and me
and this love
just being there
Oh how romantic a mood
holds you today
she said and put her arm
through yours
and moved you on
and down the aisle
between the pews
unaware as youth
too often does
of hours passing
and having time to lose.
poem by Terry Collett
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Repentance And Reconciliation
JANE.
Mamma is displeased and looks very grave,
And I own, brother, I was to blame
Just now when I told her I wanted to have,
Like Miss Lydia, a very fine name.
'Twas foolish, for, Robert, Jane sounds very well,
When mamma says, 'I love my good Jane.'
I've been lately so naughty, I hardly can tell
If she ever will say so again.
ROBERT.
We are each of us foolish, and each of us young,
And often in fault and to blame.
Jane, yesterday I was too free with my tongue,
I acknowledge it now to my shame.
For a speech in my good mother's hearing I made,
Which reflected upon her whole sex;
And now like you, Jenny, I am much afraid
That this might my dear mother vex.
JANE.
But yet, brother Robert, 'twas not quite so bad
As that naughty reflection of mine,
When I grumbled because Liddy Bellenger had
Dolls and dresses expensive and fine.
For then 'twas of her, her own self, I complained;
Since mamma does provide all I have.
MOTHER.
Your repentance, my children, I see is unfeigned,
You are now my good Robert, and now my good Jane;
And if you will never be naughty again,
Your fond mother will never look grave.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Queen Jane Approximately
Now when your mother sends back all your invitations
And your father to your sister he explains
That you're tired of yourself and all of your creations
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now the flower lady wants back what she has have lent you
And the smell of her roses does not remain
When all your children start to resent you
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now when all the clowns that you have commissioned
Have all died in battle or in vain
And you find yourself sick of all this repetition
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now when all of your advisers heave their plastic
At your feet to convince you of your pain
Trying to prove that your conclusions should be more drastic
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now when all the bandits that you turned your other cheek to
All throw down their bandannas and complain
Maybe you want somebody you don't have to speak to
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Jane
Standin' on the corner, suit case in my hand, Jack is in his coat, Jane is in her vest, and, me, I'm in a rock 'n' roll band. Riding in a Stutz-Bearcat, Jim. Ya know, those were different times. The poets, they studied rules of verse, and the ladies, they rolled their eyes.Sweet Jane! Sweet Jane! Sweet Jane!
Now, Jack, he is a banker, and Jane, she is a clerk. Both of them save their monies, when they come home from work. Sittin' down there by the fire, the radio does play. The classic music is, "The March of Wooden Soldiers", and you can heard Jack say, Sweet Jane, Sweet Jane, Sweet Jane.
Some people like to go out dancin'. Now other people they go to work. There's even some evil mothers, they'll tell you life's just made out of dirt.That women, they never really faint, and villains always blink their eyes.That childeren are the only ones who blush, and life is just to die. That every one who ever had a heart...that wouldn't turn round and break it, anyone that played a part, whooa, and wouldn't turn round and hate it.Sweet Jane, Sweet Jane, Sweet Jane.
Sweet Jane! (Sweet Jane) Sweet Jane! (Sweet Jane)...Sweet Jane! (Sweet Jane)...(Sweet Jane)...(Sweet Jane)...(Sweet Jane).
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Beautifulness.
There's an empty cottage
at the end of this lane
Jane said
and there's a large apple tree
in the garden
and no one goes there
so maybe we can look
through the windows
and see what's there
sounds good
you said
and she smiled at you
in her shy manner
and brushed her fingers
through her long black hair
and breathed in
the summer air
and there were birds
flying overhead
and a small brook
running along side
the lane
and you felt happy
being there with her
looking at her profile
at the way her eyes
looked about her
and her flowered summer dress
she said her mother made
and the way she swayed
her hips as she walked
and you sensed her nearness
her just being there
just a fingertip away
and when you came
to the empty cottage
she ran ahead and peered
through the windows
and you came along beside her
and looked through the glass
at the emptiness within
and she said
let's see if the doors are locked
and she ran to the door
and pushed but it was locked
and she said
just a chance we could have gone in
and pretended it was ours
and imagined where
we could have put our furniture
and we could have gone up the stairs
and looked out and pretended
it was our bedroom
and we had just married
and then she was silent
and you stood behind her
and touched her arm
and said
let's go pick some apples
and you can pretend
you're going to cook
an apple-pie
for our dinner instead
and she smiled
and gently pressed her lips
on your cheek
a small wet warmness
entered you
and oh
you thought
as she ran to the tree
that she would always be here
just the summer sun
and she in her beautifulness
and 13 year old me.
poem by Terry Collett
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See Jane Run
(porter howell/tim nichols)
Dick and jane dont talk anymore, jane lays awake
Wishin it could be like it was before
Finally one night, she got tough
Dick came home, and she was packin her stuff
See jane run, see dick cry
Hes standin in the street with his hands in the air
Goin why jane, why
She dont look back, shes seen enough
Close the book, the storys done, see jane run
Dicks tore up, deep down inside
Jane feels good, there aint a tear in her pretty blue eyes
Red taillights, fade out of sight
Spots in the back, hes just along for the ride
See jane run, see dick cry
Hes standin in the street with his hands in the air
Goin why jane, why
She dont look back, shes seen enough
Close the book, the storys done, see jane run
See jane run, see dick cry
Hes standin in the street with his hands in the air
Goin why jane, why
She dont look back, shes seen enough
Close the book, the storys done, see jane run
Yeah, close the book, the storys done
See jane run, oh see jane run, see jane run
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See Jane Run
(porter howell/tim nichols)
Dick and jane dont talk anymore, jane lays awake
Wishin it could be like it was before
Finally one night, she got tough
Dick came home, and she was packin her stuff
See jane run, see dick cry
Hes standin in the street with his hands in the air
Goin why jane, why
She dont look back, shes seen enough
Close the book, the storys done, see jane run
Dicks tore up, deep down inside
Jane feels good, there aint a tear in her pretty blue eyes
Red taillights, fade out of sight
Spots in the back, hes just along for the ride
See jane run, see dick cry
Hes standin in the street with his hands in the air
Goin why jane, why
She dont look back, shes seen enough
Close the book, the storys done, see jane run
See jane run, see dick cry
Hes standin in the street with his hands in the air
Goin why jane, why
She dont look back, shes seen enough
Close the book, the storys done, see jane run
Yeah, close the book, the storys done
See jane run, oh see jane run, see jane run
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Summer Recess of 62.
It was the second day
of the summer recess
and Judith and you
walked through the field
behind her house
and sat down on the grass
the sky above blue
like an upside-down ocean
with the white clouds
like small fluffy islands
and she said
Mother doesn't trust you
why not?
you asked
she doesn't trust any male
she says they're all after
the one thing
you looked at her
sitting there beside you
her hair brown and curly
and her eyes blue
and bright
and you said
not all males
are the same
she looked up
at the sky
and said
I know but that's
how she sees things
my mother likes you
you said
she says you're good for me
keep me focused
she smiled
and lay back
on the grass
and you lay
beside her
and turned
to look at her there
taking in her profile
and she turned
to face you
and she said
does your mother
trust us to be together?
sure she does
you said
an airplane
went over the sky
a sparrow hawk
hovered above
its eyes watching
and waiting
you put your hand
on her hip
and she placed
her hand on yours
you felt her hipbone
beneath her green skirt
moved your palm
gently over and over
she moved your hand
off of her hip
and said
just in case
mother's looking at us
from the upstairs window
would she?
you asked
of course
she said
she held your hand
and took it
and laid it
on her breast
her heart
somewhere beating
your hand sensing
the softness beneath
the white blouse
and she said
just as well
she never saw us
last Christmas
and you smiled
and remembered
and the sparrow hawk
flew off through the sky
and the sound
of a distant train
and your heart thumping
like the downpour of rain.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Queen Jane Approximately
When your mother sends back all your invitations
And your father to your sister he explains
That youre tired of yourself and all of your creations
Wont you come see me queen jane, wont you come see me queen jane
Now when all of the flower ladies want back what they have leant you
And the smell of their roses does not remain
And all of your children start to resent you
Wont you come see me queen jane, wont you come see me queen jane
Now when all the clowns that you have commissioned
Have died in battle or in vain
And youre sick of all this repetition
Wont you come see me queen jane, wont you come see me queen jane
When all of your advisers heave their plastic
At your feet to convince you of your pain
Trying to prove that your conclusions should be more drastic
Wont you come see me queen jane, wont you come see me queen jane
Now when all of the bandits you turn your other cheek to
All lay down their bandanas and complain
And you want somebody you dont have to speak to
Wont you come see me queen jane, wont you come see me queen jane
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Summer That Love
The summer sun
warmed you and Jane
as you made your way
up the dried up
muddy track
towards the Downs
the sunlight
pouring through
the branches of trees
overhead
you thinking
of your work
on the farm below
the day before
the weighing of the milk
the clearing out
of cowsheds
and the cowman saying
what do you want to do
when you leave school?
to be a cowman
you replied
you want to get yourself
a proper job
you don't want to do this
for a living
and Jane said
breaking you
from your thoughts
I want to show you
where I used to sit on the Downs
and where I used to collect
bones and skeletons of rabbits
and moles and birds
and you turned
and looked at her
as she walked beside you
her hands swinging
as she walked
her black hair tied
in a small bun
at the back
and her yellowy flowered dress
capturing your eyes
my father works in the woods
further along
you said
he works in the ditches
and hedgerows too
she bent down
and plucked a flower
that's Squinancywort
she said
showing you the flower
as she twirled it
between fingers
she offered it to you to smell
lovely isn't it?
you nodded
and carried the scent
with you as you both
moved on up the track
she turned to you and said
your dad does well
at his work for a townie
and you smiled
and so did she
and you captured
her lips parting
and her bright white teeth
and her eyes
moving over you
like a soft caress
and she whispered
turning her head away
do you love me?
and you whispered
yes.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As You Walked One Summer's Day.
These lanes are very narrow
you said
walking with Jane
from the parsonage
where she lived
to where the farm road began
Are they?
she replied
I've never thought about it
just that the hedges are high
and the birds chock full
in them and their songs
Yes
you said
They are
and in London
there are no hedges
or narrow lanes
and the only birds
are sparrows
and pigeons
and you wanted
to take hold
of her hand
and squeeze gently
the flesh
and sense her pulse
but you didn't
you put your hands
in your jean pockets
and gazed sideways on
at her and her dark hair
and her profile
and the scent of her
like lavender
as if she'd dived
into a wide field of it
and embraced
the flowers and stalks
What bird song is that?
she asked
No idea
you replied
moving closer to her
the scent getting stronger
the desire to be closer
taking hold but still at bay
It's a blackbird
she said
You'll learn them all
the birdsongs
and where and how
they nest and in what months
and you nodded
and saw how
the summery dress
moved and swayed
as she walked
the flowered pattern
like a field moved
by a soft breeze
and her sandaled feet
touching the gravelled lane
and you thinking
how it would be
for them to be held
and kissed by you
if she were beside you
lying in a field
or in one
of those tall woods
and you pursed your lips
and she looked up at the sky
her eyes gathering
the blueness
and whiteness of clouds
and she said
Monet would have captured that so well
and You
you muttered
He would capture you well
each aspect
of your face
and hair and eyes
and she smiled
and looked at you and said
I'd want to be captured by Renoir
have his arthritic fingers
clutching brush
and capture me
and maybe secretly
lust after me
and she blushed
and turned away
and you thought
Oh yes yes yes
but said nothing
just gazed
and breathed in
her being
her beauty
all there
for you to view
the eyes
the hair
the profile
the way her lips smiled
and sway of walk
and the tall hedges
seemed to explode
with the wild bird's talk.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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