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Mar 2013
Hazel wants to put off going home, she
Loves Paris, and being with her maid Dunne
Has somehow made it seem to her that much

More enjoyable, much more than she thought
When she started out from London, but each
Day now, each moment, seems to bring her to

A closeness she has never had with a
Maid before. She watches now as Dunne sits
Beside her outside the restaurant on

The Champs Elysees, the way she holds the
Cup, the head to one side, the eyes focused,
So aware. The clothes she had bought her for

The trip to Paris fit her well, and she
Looks after them as if she were afraid
They might spoil in the noonday sun, folds them

At night so precisely, so carefully.
Hazel sips her coffee, the noon sunshine
Warms her. Dunne examines the menu, tries

To understand the French written there, her
Finger running down the list. Hazel wants
To place her hand over Dunne’s, feel it, sense

The life there in the pulse. When Dunne helped her
Bath the night before, her hands were so soft,
So gentle, her attention to detail,

Her touch. Hazel sighs. Less of a maid now,
At least she sees her less so, seems more a
Companion, yes, that’s it, she says to

Herself, companion. The word seems odd
In her mouth, like saying Doris instead
Of Dunne. A class thing, she assumes, that seems

To separate, putting people into
Different boxes. Dunne sips her coffee
And looks at Hazel. The eyes seem to drink

Her in. Hazel shyly smiles. If her friend
Margaret had not let her down at the
Last moment she would not have brought Dunne; she’d

Have made love to her Margaret in the bed
At night rather than lie there watching Dunne
And listening to her breathing. Yet she’s

Glad now that Margaret hadn’t come, the
Relationship had grown stale. Now there is
Dunne. Fresh, alive, sitting there beside her,

Just a few inches away, bringing a
New dimension to her life, and pushing
To the back of her mind, the desire

Awaking there, a want, and muttering
Silently to herself, looking into
Dunne’s eyes, help me to resist, gazing at

The lips, wanting to touch and to be kissed.
POEM COMPOSED IN 2011.
Terry Collett
Written by
Terry Collett  Sussex, England
(Sussex, England)   
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