After Mozart 1962 Poem by Terry Collett

Yochana closes
her bedroom door;
her fingers ache
with the hard practising
of the Mozart
piano sonatas her mother
insisted she play.

She leans against the door,
staring at the desk
where her study books are;
the print above her desk
of Beethoven(her mother's gift) ,
then at her bed
where she wants
to lie down and sleep.

She goes to her desk,
sits in the hard backed chair.

She opens the maths book,
glances through a few pages,
closes it again.

She can't be bothered,
not before bed,
not in the mood
she is in.

She opens up the book
of poems by Tennyson
(gift from Father) ,
and in between pages
is the photo of Benedict
which he gave her
secreted there.

Out of her mother's gaze
and possible confiscation.

She looks at him:
the eyes staring,
the Elvis smile,
the quiff of hair.

She hugs it
to her small breasts
with her hands.

Wishes he was there,
there now,
hugging her as they had
the night before
when she crept into
the guest room
and climbed in the bed
and they kissed and hugged.

She would have had sex,
but neither knew how,
or what to do, so didn't.

Downstairs she hears
her mother playing the piano:
Schubert piece.

Father probably
in his downstairs study
with his book of birds
or butterflies.

She sighs,
puts the photo back
between pages,
puts the book back in place.

She opens the book
of maths again,
but nothing will
enter her head.

She wants to be
with Benedict in bed.