Yochana-
my bird thin,
dark haired,
Schubert loving,
once kissed
now shy, girl;
see how time
has sped
by us both.
How many stars
have burnt out
in that time and space?
I dreamed of you
at one time,
tucked you away
in my dreams box,
placed you
at the bottom
of my mind's depth.
A photo of the old school
reminded me of you,
the background,
the playing field,
the other kids older
like you and me,
just before
the Beatles' first LP.
Yochana-
with whom
did you share your life?
Who touched your body?
Shared your lips,
sat with you
at the Schubert recitals?
I remember you
in front in class,
your head to one side
as the teacher played
that Schubert piece,
your thin frame,
narrow waist,
you titless,
Reynard said,
of you, he spoke.
I saw how
your hands moved
to the music's flow,
the fragile fingers
mock playing
on the desktop.
Reynard considered
the colour
of your underwear,
I studied you,
your far away,
music tranced stare.
Yochana-
where are you now?
In whose bed
did you lay?
Whose arms
embraced you?
Who fingers searched
you out and on?
I recall
your bird-thin frame,
wiry arms,
the dark hair
the length
of your back;
how the Schumann piece
had you spaced out
in dream mode,
your eyes closed,
and I –
Benny,
watching you,
you,
unaware of me,
giving you
the desiring stare.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 7:10 AM UTC
Yochana-
my bird thin,
dark haired,
Schubert loving,
once kissed
now shy, girl;
see how time
has sped
by us both.
How many stars
have burnt out
in that time and space?
I dreamed of you
at one time,
tucked you away
in my dreams box,
placed you
at the bottom
of my mind's depth.
A photo of the old school
reminded me of you,
the background,
the playing field,
the other kids older
like you and me,
just before
the Beatles' first LP.
Yochana-
with whom
did you share your life?
Who touched your body?
Shared your lips,
sat with you
at the Schubert recitals?
I remember you
in front in class,
your head to one side
as the teacher played
that Schubert piece,
your thin frame,
narrow waist,
you titless,
Reynard said,
of you, he spoke.
I saw how
your hands moved
to the music's flow,
the fragile fingers
mock playing
on the desktop.
Reynard considered
the colour
of your underwear,
I studied you,
your far away,
music tranced stare.
Yochana-
where are you now?
In whose bed
did you lay?
Whose arms
embraced you?
Who fingers searched
you out and on?
I recall
your bird-thin frame,
wiry arms,
the dark hair
the length
of your back;
how the Schumann piece
had you spaced out
in dream mode,
your eyes closed,
and I –
Benny,
watching you,
you,
unaware of me,
giving you
the desiring stare.
MAN RECALLING A GIRL OF HIS SCHOOL DAYS
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