Summer 1962.

Summer 1962
just you and

her sitting in
some field on

the green grass
beneath a hot

summer sun and
she speaking about

things between
you both and you

not really listening
but hearing a steam

train in the distance
and wondering how

high the smoke went
and seeing it in the sky

and she silent for that
moment and you turning

and looking into her
bright eyes and seeing

in the blue and white
the death of far off

stars in some future’s
long black cold night.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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