En.Citatepedia^®.ro

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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The Girl Who Held Your Hand

You got on the coach
for the day trip
organized by the chapel people
for kids who were poor

and this girl
sat next to you
and said
you can be my boyfriend

for the day
and she took hold
of your hand
and gave it a squeeze

and you looked out
of the window
at your mother
standing there

looking up at the coach
and you thought
is this part of the deal?
Is this girl for real?

And Mother waved
and smiled
and you smiled
uneasily back

with the girl’s hand
holding yours
out of sight
and she looked

over your shoulder
and waved
but no one
waved back to her

because her mother
wasn’t there
maybe she was off somewhere
or had to go to work

or maybe
she was still in bed
with another uncle
beneath the sheets

and maybe
he was holding her hand
and she was holding
something you never knew

or cared about
just sitting there
waving to Mother
beneath a sky of blue.

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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Fay and You and The Fading Bruise

Fay met you
at the bus stop
on the New Kent Road
she was dressed

in the lemon coloured dress
you liked
and her hair
was pulled tight

into a ponytail
where are you going?
she asked
to the Globe

you said
what Shakespeare's Globe?
she asked
no the fleapit cinema

at Camberwell Green
you replied
oh
she said

I've never been there
my daddy doesn't like
me going to cinemas
he says they're

dens of sin
she looked at you
as if you would confirm
her father's words

well it's certainly a den
you stated
but whether its
of sin I don't know

she looked puzzled
and touched
her ponytail
with her hand

are you coming along?
you asked
she looked about
as if her father

might be behind her
should I?
she asked
do you want to?

yes
she replied
then let's go
but I haven't any money

she said
I have enough
you said
my Mother gave me money

for chores I did
oh I see
she muttered
and she bit her lip

what would my daddy say
if he saw me?
he won't
how can you be so sure?

trust me
you said
fathers know little
of what their kids do

she smiled
if you think so
she said
sure I do

besides it'll
do you good
you said
giving her a smile

and then the bus came
and you both got on
and sat next
to each other

and you paid
the bus conductor
the fare
and as the bus

moved off
you both swayed
to the motion
of the bus

her arm touching yours
the fading bruise
on her flesh
a mixture of yellow

and brown
and blue
but you said nothing
besides you thought

if her old man
beats her
what the hell
can I do?

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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Christina and You and Home for Lunch

As you went by
the girl's playground
after getting off

the school bus
Christina called to you
through the wire fence

and said
my mother said
you can come home

for lunch today
if you like
ok

you said
where shall I meet you?
Cedric will bring you along

she said
and so when
the lunch time

recess bell rang
you followed Cedric
out of the school

and saw Christina
by the outer fence waiting
are you sure

your mother doesn't mind?
you asked
of course not

she said
Cedric walked on in front
leaving you and Christiana

to walk on behind
she talked about some girl
in her class who had a boyfriend

and claimed
to have had sex
and then she went on

about the teacher
who had been expelled
for taking pupils home

in his lunch hour
it was boys though
she added

and then you came
to her house
and she took you in

and there was her mother
in the kitchen
nice to meet you

she said
Christina has talked
about you so much

Cedric behind
his mother's back
was making gagging gestures

with his fingers
down his throat
Christina looked at you

and smiled
nice to be here
you said

are you sure it's all right
me coming?
of course it is

Christina's mother said
now sit down
and I'll serve up for us all

and so you all sat down
around the table
and Cedric looked at you

then looked down
at his knife and fork
and Christina said

glad you're here
and she put a hand
over yours

and gave your hand
a squeeze
then removed it

when her mother
set down the plates
and then sat down herself

and you all began to eat
in an unusual silence
Christina giving you

a bright eyed stare
and Cedric looking
over your shoulder

as if you weren't there
after lunch their mother
cleared the table

of plates and went off
and Cedric went
into the lounge

leaving you and Christina alone
what do you think?
she asked

about what?
you asked
my mother

what do you think of her?
she seems nice
you said

she gets depressed a lot
Christina said
but today

she was at her best
oh right
you said

sorry she gets depressed
come on
Christina said

I'll show you my room
you raised your eyebrows
won't your mother mind?

you asked
not if she doesn't know
Christina replied

isn't it a bit risky?
you said
yes

she said
that's what makes life
so interesting

so you followed her
and tiptoed up the stairs
and she showed you

her bedroom
and her favourite doll
and other favourites of hers

lined along her bed
then she kissed you quickly
and then stood back

and smiled and said
best go down now
or she'll wonder

where we are
and so that was it
and as you followed her

down the stairs
you could hear the radio
playing some classical music

and her mother
humming along
and sounding quite happy

and Christina giving you
another kiss
behind her mother's back

and after saying thank you
to her mother
you all left

to return to school
the clouds promising rain
and so back to school

and the boring lessons
once again.

poem by Terry Collett
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Misshaped Love.

You never talked about cowboys
or shootouts with Fay.

She was the girl
in the apartment above

who lived with her mum and dad
and younger brother.

You sat next to her
on the bus

your hands wanting to reach out
and touch hers.

You didn’t
but held them in check

like hounds ready
for the chase.

She was about your age
eleven or so

give or take a few months
and she had long blonde hair

which her mother
sometimes braided

sometimes not.
What do you do

in your spare time?
She asked.

Oh you know
play about

on the bombed out buildings
or bombsites

or go swimming
or play ball with friends

you said.
She nodded and looked away.

There was a bruise
on her neck

where her hair parted
and sometimes

when you put your hand
on her shoulder

she’d wince
and move away.

But not that day.
That day she let it stay

and even tapped
your hand with hers.

She turned around
and faced you

her eyes filled with tears
like flooded cities

the blue islands
of her pupils

seemingly swimming
against the tide.

We’re moving away
she said.

Where? You asked.
Somewhere far away.

Won’t see you anymore
she said.

The bus drew up
at your stop

and you got off
and the bus drove away

and you saw her hand
wave at the window.

You never saw her again
or heard how she did

in later years
or if her father still beat her

as Mother said he had.
Sometimes you still saw her

waving goodbye
in your dreams at night.

The bus going over the hill
and your heart pounding

with a misshaped
small boy love still.

poem by Terry Collett
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Summer 62 And You

That’s the last of school
for a while

she said
as you both descended

the school bus
and walked home

with her sister and yours
walking a small distance behind

any chance you could meet me later?
you asked

have to see
if Mother wants me

to do chores
she replied

maybe after?
you asked

she sighed
and looked up

at the late
afternoon sky

you caught her profile
and the way her cheek

was so kissable
and yet you didn’t

you just stared
have to see

won’t we
don’t want her

getting in one
of her moods

you walked on
in silence awhile

then she said
maybe able

to sneak out tomorrow
and see you

by the old pond
and you smiled

and you said
sure that’d be nice

but no funny business
she said

looking you
in the eyes

as if I would
you said

well Mother thinks you would
she muttered

looking away
so that her eyes

captured the horizon
and held it there

and you said
frankly Sweetie

I don’t give a dam or care
and she smiled and said

oh so very Clark Gable
and you both laughed

and she grabbed
your hand

and whispered
she just don’t understand.

poem by Terry Collett
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Pushing One Leg Anne

Push me
through the avenue of trees

Anne said
I'm pissed off with the kids

asking how I lost my leg
and so you pushed

the wheelchair
along the avenue

out of sight of others
away from their childish chatters

and ball games
and cries of want and woes

go on you skinny arse
push push

she muttered
and you pushed on the handles

with all your might
over the dry grass

and she rocked
up and down

and side to side
until she bellowed

this will do small fellow
rest me here

and you let go
of the handles

and puffed for breath
and looked at her

sitting there
in the wheelchair

with her bright eyes
and black hair

and she pulled
your hand towards her

and laid it on her one leg
and said

that's your reward
for pushing me

and she rubbed your hand
over the red skirt

the soft texture
warming the skin

you watched her hand
holding yours

her other hand holding
the side of the chair

sensing her softness
beneath the hardness

and brashness
but saying nothing

just taking in
the sensations and newness

and she said
just as well Matron

hasn't seen this
or it'd give her

such a flush
and she laughed

and let go of your hand
and your hand lingered

over her thigh
like a bird set free

waiting to take
to the sky.

poem by Terry Collett
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Cedric's Message.

Cedric approached you
in the playground and said
My sister Christina

wants to see you
on the playing field lunchtime
and he said it

in a quiet voice
as if he didn't want
the other boys to hear

he ran messages for girls
and off he went
to play with some other boys

leaving you to stare out
onto the empty playing field
and so lunch time

after you'd eaten dinner
you went onto the playing field
beneath the summer sun

and there she was
over by the wire fence
waiting for you

and you said
Cedric said you wanted to see me
and she said

Yes do you mind
if we walk off alone together
I don't want other's ears

to move in on our conversation
No sure
you said

Let's go over by the woods
by the far fence
and so you walked off with her

across the playing field
by other kids who were playing
football or sitting talking

or playing skip rope
or whatever
and when you came

to the woods
you sat down with her
and she said

You do love me
don't you?
I mean you're not

seeing anyone else?
You looked across
the playing field

to where you'd sat
with another
some months before

and she had asked
the same question
but since then

it had turned
momentarily sour
Yes and no

you said
looking back at her
taking in her dark hair

and deep eyes
and how her hand
lay on her thigh

covered by grey skirt
and her naked knees
just visible

to the eye
What do you mean
yes and no?

she asked
you watched
her lips move

and replied
Yes I love you
and no I'm not

seeing another
and she smiled at you
and put her hand on yours

and waited for a kiss
and so you did
her lips on yours

out by the woods
on that summer day
out of doors.

poem by Terry Collett
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Your Mother and You and the Cherries

In the year the Who
and Jimi Hendrix
played
at the Isle of Wight

Rock Festival
your mother
was in Smallfields
hospital

having a kidney removed
and you sat with her
outside the ward
looking out

on woodland
and unkempt grassland
and you gave her cherries
in a brown paper bag

you had bought
she took the bag
and looked inside
I can't eat those

at the moment
what with the kidney
being removed and such
oh sorry

you said
not to worry
you eat them
she said

so you did
flicking the small stones
into the tall grass
your mother looked up

at the warm sun
and white clouds
shame you and Judith
didn't get together

she said suddenly
as you had just spat
a stone nearby
I liked Judith

she was a down to earth
kind of girl
you looked at your mother
in her pink dressing gown

and slippered feet
she'd got engaged
to someone else
by the time

I got around asking her
you said
there may have been
prettier girlS about

but she had
a heart of gold
and lovely eyes
and smile

your mother said
giving you one
of her studying looks
you tried to picture

Judith that Christmas
when she kissed you
for the first time
while carol singing

the moon bright
and stars out flashing
in the night sky
you spat out

another cherrystone
there'll be an orchard
of cherry trees here
in years to come

your mother said
scanning the woodland
and tall grass
you'll have to bring me back

and see
she added laughing
how do you feel?
you asked

a bit sore
but otherwise
all right
be glad to get home

but they want me
to go
to a convalescent home
run by nuns

for a few weeks
to recover
will you go?
you asked

they insist I go somewhere
so might as well
go to the nuns
she said

miss you at home
you said
the others will
miss you too

your mother
went silent
the lines on her forehead
screwed up

as she thought
and you remembered
Judith's arms
around your waist

and the big hug
she gave you
as her lips
met yours

penny for them
your mother said
for what?
you said

your thoughts
she said
if I had a penny
for all my thoughts

you said
I'd be a rich man
Mother laughed
then said

think on Son
and as much as you can.

poem by Terry Collett
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An Angel's Touch

It was Wednesday morning service
in the church next to the school
and Helen sat next to you

in the old wooden pew
her eyes peering
behind her thick lens glasses

at you and she whispered
your mum's meeting my mum
in the street market after school

and then we're going to my house
for a cup of tea
and I can show you

my doll's house
that my dad made
out of an orange box

and it's got lights
and everything
you leaned your head

towards her and said
in a low voice
oh right yes that'll be good

hoping none of your mates
could hear
especially Cogan

who only the other week
threatened to bloody your nose
but he didn't show after school

and she smiled
and you looked at the altar
where the vicar

was lighting candles
and Mrs Murphy
was walking down the aisle

like an aging storm trooper
in her hand knitted cardigan
and brown pleated skirt

Helen whispered
and you can see
the tiny furniture

I've got too
that my mum bought
from a second hand shop

off the market
you looked at her
sitting there

in her grey jumper
and white blouse
and grey skirt

and her plaited hair
parted in the middle
and her bright eyes

magnified by the glass lens
and you said
I look forward to it

and she rubbed your hand
with hers
and then looked ahead

at the lighted candles
and sniffed in the incense
in the air and her hand

moved to pick up
a hymn book
and you sensed where

her hand had been
like some angel's touch
as if to bless

well that's what
it seemed like to you
more or less.

poem by Terry Collett
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In Mrs Clarke's Wake

Mrs Clarke pushed
her battered bassinet
between market stalls

not listening
to the stallholder's
shouts and calls

Helen walked behind her mother
as told holding your hand
So I know where you are

Mrs Clarke had said
you sensed
Helen's small hand

in yours
her seven year old skin
touching your

seven year old flesh
her thin fingers
encircling yours

We'll see if they've got
a school skirt
for you here

her mother said
turning back her head
Helen nodded

and you noticed
Helen's enlarged eyes
behind her thick lens

spectacles
searching her mother's
large behind waddling on

stopping now and then
beside stalls
picking up clothes

searching for a skirt or dress
grey and the right size
Helen whispered to you

putting her head
close to yours
Rice pudding for tea

when we get home
with red jam
and sugar too

if you want
and she smiled
and you said shyly

That's good
because I'm starving
she looked at your hand

in hers and said
Then we can play
mums and dads

and my dolls
can be our family
her mother stopped

and picked up a skirt
and held it up
to the light

then held it against
her daughter's waist
judging for size

and you watched
her mother's hands
red with washing

and cleaning
thinking and gauging
the size and cost

as you studying
Helen's hand in yours
like a soul lost.

poem by Terry Collett
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Rachel and You and The Day Trip

It was a day trip out
to some seaside place
arranged by the Gospel church
for kids whose parents

were poor
and having got on the coach
you sat in a seat
by the window

and waved at your mother
standing on the pavement
along Rockingham Street
and she waved back

then this girl sat beside you
who you didn't know
and she smiled and said
all right if I sit here?

sure
you said
and looked back out
at your mother

and waved again
and she waved back
and you thought
who is this girl?

and why is she
sitting next to me?
and she looked at out
the window

and waved to her mother
who started talking
to your mother
and they both waved back

to you and the girl
and you said
do you want to sit
by the window?

and she said
ok yes that'd be nice
and so she got out
and you got out

then she got in
and sat
by the window
and you sat

down beside her
and then the coach
started up
and drove off

and you both waved
at your mothers
until they were out of sight
and the girl turned

and said
I'm Rachel
this is my first time
to the seaside

and you said
you can walk around
with me if you want to
and she said

that'd be good
I don't know
anyone else here
and so she did

all day
walked around with you
along the beach
and on the sands

making sandcastles
and in the cafe
where they took you all
for a meal

of fish and chips
and she talked
and talked
and smiled

and laughed
and once she took
hold of your hand
and it seemed

for a while
that she was happy
at least it seemed so
by the width of her smile.

poem by Terry Collett
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Her Prayerful Breath

She sat on the grass
beneath the summer sun
looking at you
as if for the first time

and as she looked at you
you looked beyond her
at the distant sky
and how the clouds

resembled a woman’s bust
and how humorous it was
when an airplane
went right through

on its way to some far off land
and as she took your hand
she said things about love
and how she felt

and did you feel the same
and you taking the image
of the airplane
and woman’s entered bust

said oh yes of course
trying not to let it show
on your 14 year old face
how funny that image seemed

and not realizing how deeper
and more loving she was
back then beneath
that summer sky

with you thinking
of that day and her
and her later death
and you hearing

in the silence
of the drawn out dawn
her soft words
in her prayerful breath.

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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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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The Touch Of Your Hand

On the day that you were born
I touched your hand so chubby and warm.

I touched your hand when you were one
and helped you walk my beautiful son.

I held your hand when you were two.
We ran, your favorite thing to do.

I held your hand when you were three
as you climbed on my lap and smiled at me.

I touched your hand when you were four
as the ocean touched our toes at the shore.

I touched your hand when you were five
walking you to school but when we'd arrive

I felt the tug of your hand from mine
and I knew that we had crossed a line.

I looked at you and released your hand
and said'it's okay I understand.'

As I walked back home I cried some tears
thinking of all our hand holding years.

Holding your hand became sporadic now,
when you were feverish or I felt your brow.

I held your hand a few times as a teen
but always alone so it wouldn't be seen.

I held your hand after you said, 'I do.'
We danced together just me and you.

After some years went by my son
you held the hand of your little one.

And so the times of your life turn around
and now that my hand is old I've found

you take my hand and help me walk
and as you do we intimately talk.

And it takes me back to that bright early morn
when I held your hand so chubby and warm.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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What Cedric Said About His Sister.

Cedric followed you
around the playground
at high school

it seemed he wanted
to say something to you
but instead he just followed

you around until
as you stood looking over
at the playing field

where kids were gathering
in their break period
he said

my sister likes you
how do you know?
you asked

because she told me
he replied blushing
looking over at the playing field

isn't she your twin?
Yes
he said

going red
gazing at his sister
standing with a group

of friends on the field
you looked over at the girls
at Cedric's sister waving a hand

so that's Christina
yes
he muttered

the one with the dark hair
and waving a hand
then he went silent

and looked at you
Mother said she's too young for boyfriends
he said after a few moments

but she doesn't listen
she does what she wants
so she told me to tell you

she likes you
and so you nodded
and waved your hand

back at the girls
and there was an explosion
of giggling and laughter

and waving of hands
and then they ran off
onto the field

and as they ran off
you noticed Cedric's sister
had a cute butt

but you didn't tell him that
you just turned and said
fancy a game of ball?

and he just nodded
and said nothing more
about his sister at all.

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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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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