SUNDAY WALK 1962 | By: Terry Collett | | Category: Poem - Love Bookmark and Share


We walk along the lane
from the church
after the service;
high hedges,
fields beyond,
warm sun,
birds singing.

Can't meet you
this afternoon,
Yehudit says.

Why's that?

She looks at me
with her big eyes.

Mother says
she wants me
to do some chores.

After the chores?

She shrugs
her shoulders.

Don't think
she'll let me out then.

Be a good
for a walk
by our lake
(her name
for the pond).

She looks away.

I study her profile;
drink her in.

I think some one
may have told her
about us
by the lake.

What about us
by the lake?

You know
the other week.

I look back
at her sister
walking behind
with another.  

Who said anything?

I look at her.

Don't know,
she didn't say
she knew
just the way
she looks at me
and how
she's been recently.

So someone
has been spying
on us?

Looks like it,
but I don't
know who.

I like our lake,
like the whole
scenery there,
the birds,
the ducks,

I know,
she says,
but I can't go,
least not today.

A car passes us,
a hooter goes,
a hand waves.

Maybe we can
make a quick detour
before you go home?

Not with her with us,
she says,
pointing to
her younger sister
behind us.

Will she talk?
I ask.

She always talks.

Let her go in front
of us for a while.

So we hang back
and her sister passes
talking to another.

She's prettier than I am.

You're pretty enough
for me.

I take her hand
and draw her
into a gap
in the hedge
and we kiss.

Lips on lips stuff,
hands caressing
each the other.

Nice body,
lovely lips,
shame about
your mother.

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