En.Citatepedia^®.ro

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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Jane and You and the Gatekeeper

You sat with Jane
on the grass
in the field
beneath the Downs

she was looking
at the sky
and you
were watching her

her profile
her hair pulled back
in a ponytail
her eyes bright

as new coins
her pale blue dress
and white ankle socks
and brown sandals

she followed a butterfly
fluttering by
a Gatekeeper
she said

where?
you said
there that butterfly
it's called a Gatekeeper

you turned to watch
the butterfly
she had pointed to
as it fluttered off

down the field
stopping now and then
to land on flowers
I love butterflies

she said
how do you know
all their names?
you asked

I read Daddy's books
he has a number of books
on butterflies and moths
she said

she lay back
on the grass
and stared
at the sky

you lay down
beside her
your hands
behind your head

she smelt of lavender
you noticed
you breathed it in
let it fill within you

don't you read books?
she asked
turning to look at you
taking in your white shirt

and blue jeans
I'm reading a book on birds
you said
I bought it in town

the other week
that's a start
she said smiling
I guess so

you said
I didn't realize
there were so many kinds
she studied you

as you spoke
resting her head
on her hand
maybe we can go looking

for nests next year
when they begin
to nest again
she said

ok
you said
not to touch though
she said

just to look
birds don't like
their nests disturbed
in London

we only have sparrows
and pigeons
you said
how boring

she said
you watched
her lips moving
as she spoke

her eyes on you
studying you
I'm glad you're here
you said

glad to be here
she replied
she touched her fingers
to her lips

and blew you a kiss
and you did likewise
seeing a new world
in her deep dark eyes.

poem by Terry Collett
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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
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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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Beneath the Blue.

You both walked along
the narrow country lane

to the small church
and lay in the overgrown grass

in the churchyard
looking up

at the summer sky
and Jane said

It's so peaceful here
I feel as if part of me

were mixed
with the whole

of nature
you listened to her

looking at her
sideways on

seeing her profile
laying amidst

the green grass
her head facing

the blueness of sky
her hands resting

upon her breasts
with one leg straight

the other lifted upwards
with the knee bent

Do you feel that?
she asked

looking at you side wards
her eyes leaving the sky

and resting on you
Yes

you replied
but not thinking

of what she had
but of the beauty of her

and you being there
and taking note

of her eyes and hair
and moving lips

and hands at rest
and her soft youthful breast

and that glimpse
of thigh capturing

your eye
Yes

you repeated
I feel a part of that

feel almost drowned
in its beauty

and she turned
and you saw her smile

and heard birdsong
and felt the sun on skin

and the saw the expanse
of sky and clouds

white chariots moving
across the blue

and wanted that moment
for always and forever

and you reached out a hand
and touched her shoulder

and would had touched
and felt her more

had you been bolder
and she said

We lay here with the dead
but our bones and flesh

are filled with life and love
unlike theirs

wasted away
Yes

you whispered
feeling her bones

beneath the flesh
Just like us some day.

poem by Terry Collett
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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
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Under Apple Trees

She lay beside you
under the apple trees

the bees and butterflies overhead
the glimmer of sunlight

through the branches
and she said

I can smell the apples
from here

and if I close my eyes
I feel I'm in a foreign field

lying in some overseas orchard
and happy beneath the sun

and you turned your head
and said

Am I with you
lying in that orchard

beneath a foreign sun?
and you studied her profile

the shadows dancing
across her cheek

a butterfly just above her head
Sure

she said
As if I'd dream of anywhere

without you by my side
and she reached out a hand

and touched your fingers
with hers and it seemed

a pulse danced
between the fingers

as if love momentarily
could be felt

could be sensed
in the space

between fingers
and riding

in the hearts
and heads

and she turned
to face you

her eyes reflecting
a different sun

and your hand sliding
along her thigh

and she shaking
her head slightly

eased out
a soft sigh.

poem by Terry Collett
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One Afternnon that Summer.

Despite the fact
that other local kids

were in the hay barn playing
Jane stood at the barn doors

looking in apprehensively
and you stood beside her

waiting for her to move in
or say something

but she just stood looking in
are we allowed in to play?

she asked
sure as long as we don't

cause damage to the hay bales
you replied

and she sniffed the air
and moved in

and looked around
the huge barn

with its semi dark
and smells of hay

and captured sun
and warmth

the other kids played
but took no notice

of Jane or you
as you entered

closed the doors
and moved around

the hay strewn floor
haven't you been

in a hay barn before?
you asked looking

at her bright summer dress
and white socks and sandals

yes years ago
she said

as she paused
at the edge

of the nearest hay bale
and sat down

and you sat beside her
in the semi dark

with sunlight making
small light through cracks

and holes in the walls
I don't like mice and rats

she said
and I saw one once

in another barn
and it frightened me

you sat in silence
for a few moments

taking in the air and smells
and then the other kids

ran off out side
into the sunlight

talking of playing
down by the pond

and catching things
you sat still

until their voices died off
and then she said

why have you
brought me in here?

you looked at her eyes
in the dull light

and her lips moving
with their small speech

to be alone with you
without prying eyes

you said
oh I see

she replied
and stood up

and climbed upwards
on the hay bales

with you following
behind her

seeing her sway
as she moved

her hands pulling
her upwards

her legs taking each step
onto a hay bale carefully

then having reach
high up in the barn

she sat down
and you sat beside her

if my father saw me here
he'd think things

Jane said
and she looked at you

with her large eyes
what things? you asked

watching her lay back
with her hands

behind her head
I don't know

he never said
she muttered

as she lay there
she lifted a leg

and her dress
slipped downwards

revealing a glimpse
of naked thigh

that's parents for you
you uttered

never saying
what they think

or saying things
but don't explain

you lay down
beside her

on the hay
as outside the barn

the soft sound
of pitter patter

on the roof
of sudden rain.

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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Not Always What We Seek

After you'd got on
the school bus
and sat down

in one of the side seats
Jane said
who did you fight with

in the playground
lunchtime?
Woolgar

you said
he pushed me over
against the wire fence

and I got up
and went for him
she looked disappointed

I didn't think
you could be violent
she said

I'm not usually
but it was an automatic
response to being

pushed over
you said
my daddy said

one should turn
the other cheek
especially if you're a Christian

she said softly
the school bus
started up

and took off down
the school drive
sorry

you said
but the creep
got under my skin

and if you let them
get away with it once
they'll always do it

she gazed at you
then out
of the window

at the passing shops
and buildings
of the town

were you watching?
you asked
yes I saw you

from the girl's playground
she muttered
not looking round

guess it looked
kind of bad
yes it did

she turned
and looked at you
but at least

you don't do it
all the time
she said

and touched
your hand
with hers

and you felt sad
inside that you'd
made her feel like that

and you saw
how lovely her
dark eyes were

how there seemed
to be a mini universe
in them with their own

galaxies and stars
and moons
next time I'll think twice

you said
before hitting
the other boy

she nodded
and smiled
and her hand

squeezed yours
her skin soft and warm
her hair black

and drawn back
into a ponytail
sitting there

beside you
her grey school skirt
and jumper

and white blouse
the neck open
the sight

of her throat
and you wanting
to kiss but not doing so

her neck
her skin
the feel

of her hair
against your cheek
sometimes

you thought
we can't have
what we seek.

poem by Terry Collett
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One Summer 1962

Christina sat next to you
on the school playing fields
the summer day was hot

and she sat there
cross-legged
her school skirt

touching on her knees
and you looked beyond her
wondering if the girl

who had kissed you
at Christmas
while carol singing

was looking over at you
from a group of girls
across the way

I wish I had
my bathing costume on
Christina said

so do I
you said looking back
at her taking in

her white knees
catching the summer sun
she giggled and looked away

did Cedric tell you about me
and what I told him?
she asked

her profile
like some Renoir girl
yes

you said
remembering Cedric's words
and his blushing face

he seemed put out
you added
you don't want to worry

about Cedric
she said
he hates me getting into boys

as she said this
you looked over
at the girl who kissed you

and she was staring
over at you and Christina
and seemed annoyed

and as you gazed at her
you still felt that kiss
on your lips

and that embrace
in the moonlight
and Christina touched

your knee
and said
if you want privacy

we can always go up
into the woods by the fence
and you said

did you hear about Brilton
the teacher of English?
No

she said
what?
he's been sacked

why? she asked
running her hand
along your thigh

for taking boys home
in the lunch period
you said

oh
she said
removing her hand

what for?
You looked
at her knees

in the sunlight
how the light
seemed to warm them

no idea
you said
and you looked away

with a picture
of her knees
carried in your head.

poem by Terry Collett
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Cloud Formations and Jane..

I like cloud formations
Jane said
laying on her back

in the small church yard
looking up at the sky
above her head

it's like a form of art
you said
grey and white

against a canvas of blue
that looks like a man's head
Jane said

the way it forms
and unforms
you followed

the pointing
of her finger at the sky
that looks like a dog

over there
you said
she looked

and then gazed at you
her blue eyes
catching the sun's light

through a tree above
I like these moments alone
with you

she said
no one near us
no disturbance

no sounds save for birdsong
and the buzz of bees
you moved closer to her

and lay with you right hand
supporting your head
searching her eyes

her dark hair
about her face
daddy said

that Heaven is above us
and looking
at the cloud formations

I feel I see it
especially when the sun
shines through

she said
her lips moving
with slow motion

I think that sometimes
you said
she leaned nearer to you

and kissed your lips
then lay back
and stared at the clouds

and sky
and you lay back too
thinking inwardly

this is where
I'd like to lie
the day I die.

poem by Terry Collett
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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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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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Sports Day 1962

It was sports day
at high school

and the field and tracks
were crowded with

teachers and kids
and the sun was out

causing sweat
and heat rash

and Reynard said to you
that girl who fancies your ass

is waving to you
over by the small wood

of trees and bushes
so you looked over

and saw Christina
waving a hand at you

leaping up and down
her short gym skirt

rising and falling
as she leaped

showing off
now and then

her dark green panties
mind she don't eat you

Reynard said
and walked off

to watch the races
as you wandered over

to where she stood
at the edge

of the small wood
don't you look

the sexy beast
in your black shorts

she said
eyeing you over

her right hand smoothing
down your white tee shirt

are you running?
she asked

yes a short sprint
you replied

anything more than that
and I'm buggered

she looked at the field
holding her hands

in front of her
and you gazed

at her white legs
and white ankle socks

and black plimsolls
I'm in the relay race

she said
I‘ll have to watch

to see when my turn comes
then she turned to you

and said
have you been inside the wood?

you looked behind you
no not so far have you?

yes we went there
in science looking for bugs

and such
she said

maybe you could show me
you said

what?
bugs and flowers

and butterflies
you replied

she smiled at you
maybe but teachers might be watching

or other kids or prefects
and what if my brother Cedric

sees us enter
and tells my parents?

just a science tour
to see all nature's gifts

you said
tell them that

if any see us go
and you watched her

fumble with her fingers
looking around the field

and whispered softly
no.

poem by Terry Collett
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Church Sitting

You sat with Jane
in her father's church
the bright morning sun

piercing high windows
pushing colours on flagstone floors
the silence caressed you

her nearness warmed
her ankle socks and sandals
had an innocence of strawberries

her flowered summer dress
rode up to her thighs as she sat
her hands resting on her knees

can you feel that breeze?
she said
cooling isn't it

you sensed it as she spoke
yes I can
you replied

your eyes moved along her thighs
then lifted to her face
as partial sunlight

seemed to show
grace there on skin
and dark black hair

and you watched her lips move
as she spoke and said
I was christened here

and maybe I'll be wed here too
to whom?
you asked

and she looked at you
a thirteen year old boy
then looked away

some birdsong from outside
had caught her ear
and she turned her head

and you gazed
at her neck and jaw
and saw her beauty

in a way you had not before
sunlight catching her
as it had coloured patterns

on flagstone floor
you wanted to reach
and touch her arm

her skin and sense
her pulse of life
that pumped within.

poem by Terry Collett
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Before You

Supposing Death
to be a woman

what then?
She asked

would you embrace it
as willingly as you do me?

The afternoon sun
seemed to hang

in the sky
like a child's balloon

as you lay that day
in the tall grass

maybe
you said

if it had eyes
and a smile like yours

and she pulled
a stem of grass

and placed between lips
and stared above

as birds flew
to and fro

and would you go
willingly into the dark

as you do with me
into this tall grass?

You turned to face her
taking in

her blue eyes
and cheeks

maybe
if it allowed me

to kiss as good
as you do

and as long
and she turned over

took out
the stem of grass

and kissed your lips
welcome to Miss Death

she said
and you both laughed

and lay back
gazing at the summer sky

a deep blue
not knowing then

death would come for her
long before

it would ever
come for you.

poem by Terry Collett
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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
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With Fay on a Bus.

The bus moved away
from the bus stop
and Fay sat next to you

her body rocking
side to side
with the motion

of the bus
her knees pushing
against each other

her hands in a prayer like pose
upon her knees
Are you going

to the cinema?
she asked
Yes

you replied
The Globe
That old fleapit?

she said smiling
her lips parting
showing

small white teeth
What are you going to see?
A cowboy film I think

you said
Why don't you come too?
I can't

I haven't any money
she said
Besides my dad

wouldn't like it
he thinks films
are the Devil's work

she looked out
at the passing view
you studied her thumbs

rubbing over each other
her nails pink
and polished

like small shells
He needn't know
you said

I wouldn't tell
she turned her head
and said

I would know
and he would know
by the look

in my eyes
he knows I always
tell the truth

and never tell lies
you put a hand over hers
and her thumbs

became still
and her hand
touched yours

Maybe one day
she said
I will.

poem by Terry Collett
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Young Traitor

Gran said
you can come with us
to the fair

Janice said
Provided your mum agrees
of course but Gran's

already asked your mum
so it's all right
you stood outside

the school gates
waiting for your mother
to come and pick you up

and so you said
Oh right that'll be good
but you didn't want Helen

to know you were going
to the fair with Janice
and even though

you hadn't planned it
or asked for it
you still felt guilty

about going
with Janice to the fair
and when Helen

came out of school
and stood waiting
next to you

for her mother
you hoped Janice
wouldn't say

anything about it
but Janice just stood there
smiling looking at Helen

as if to say he's going with me
to the fair and you're not
and Helen gazed at Janice

at the same time
putting her hand
near yours

and you could feel
her hand brush
against yours

and then she turned
and looked at you
through her

thick lens glasses
her eyes searching you
like a navigator

looking for a fresh route
to a new world
and Janice moved closer

on your other side
her hand seeking out
a finger to hold

and she said
Look here comes Gran
and she released

your finger and ran
and you stood with Helen
waiting

knowing her hand
was warm and feeling yours
and hoping she couldn't

read minds
or thoughts
or know about the fair

and she said suddenly
giving your hand a squeeze
Here's your mum and mine

let's go meet them
and off you ran
following behind

feeling a sense of betrayal
being a traitor to Helen
in your 7 year old mind.

poem by Terry Collett
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