Hello Poetry
Classics
Words
Blog
F.A.Q.
About
Contact
Guidelines
© 2024 HePo
by
Eliot
Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads.
Become a member
Terry Collett
Poems
Sep 2013
JANE ONE SUNDAY.
When she fainted
at the bus stop in the town
and others gathered
around her
you stood watching
anxious of her
being such
but not wanting others
to know of you and she
(her choice)
you stood looking
through the crowd
of what you could
of her
the glimpse
of black hair
the yellow flowered dress
a white sock
then she was up
and someone
brushed her off
Jane gazed at you
pale white
her lips bluish
her dark eyes
black olives
on white plates
and next day(Sunday)
after church
she walked over to you
and(no one noticing)
you and she wandered off
beyond the hedge
her father shaking hands
at the porch of church
her mother talking
of some fete
and the making of cakes
Jane taking your hand
settled by a higher hedge
and whispered
glad you never came
to me yesterday
when I fainted
that would have set
the tongues wagging
I thought that too
you said
she smiled
why did you faint?
you asked
not sure
Mum thinks
it's my time of month
or some such thing
you looked puzzled
unsure what her time
of month was
or what it meant
(13 years old
as both you were)
I see
you said
but didn't
anyway
she said
feel better today
and then she talked
of a butterfly she'd seen
sounding like
some lady or other
you stared at her
the eyes bright
the skin still pale
her hand in yours
the scent of apples
freshly picked
her warmth on yours
her words silk like
whispering to you
and you thought
of the Sunday before
the walk up the Downs
the hand in hand
kind of thing
you thinking
of her nearness
something stirring
within
and she talking
of the spread of flowers
colours
design
petals
and how bees
come and go
and you sensing
each touch of her
skin on skin
her thumb stroking
the back of your hand
then someone called her name
beyond the hedge
over from the church
and letting go
of your hand
she walked back
leaving you to stare
and wonder and wish
as you walked back
another way
the churchyard
with its many dead
the flowers
the smells of summer
and you watching
wanting her instead.
Written by
Terry Collett
Sussex, England
(Sussex, England)
Follow
😀
😂
😍
😊
😌
🤯
🤓
💪
🤔
😕
😨
🤤
🙁
😢
😭
🤬
0
490
Herman Nucleosis
,
Terry O'Leary
and
Nat Lipstadt
Please
log in
to view and add comments on poems