Her Single Lone Bed 1962 Poem by Terry Collett

Benedict arrived
at Yochana's home.

He stood in the passageway
looking around
her mother was unsure of him,
her father greeted him
as he picked him up at home
and drove him.

Yochana was shy
and said little.

She showed him
into the lounge.

Her mother spoke platitudes
eyeing him like a hawk.

He talked shyly
of his home and parents
eyeing Yochana
taking in her face and eyes
and the slimness of her figure.

At dinner he sat opposite
the mother
her voice constant
like a dripping tap
moral and judgemental.

The father spoke
of his work and looked
at his plate.

Afterwards Yochana
showed him the garden
sorry about Mother
she talks so
not sure she trusts you yet
Benedict said not to worry.

Eyes watched them
as they walked and talked.

I'd kiss you but she
would not approve
Yochana said as they
walked by the flower bed.

Nor would I
Benedict said smiling
wait until later
is my bedroom
far from yours?
Night walk
sleep walk he said.

She smiled
near the parents
you'd have to
pass theirs first.

She showed him
his room and bed.

Small and neat
and Spartan.

He felt the bed.

Springy and OK.

She shut the door
and they kissed.

Lips to lips stuff.

Warm and wet.

The mother watched him
as he sat in the lounge
watching TV.

She talked all through
like some minor prophet
on morals and how
she saw things.

The father said nothing
read a book.

Yochana sat next to him
wanting to hold his hand
but didn't watched
the black and white TV
and the boring programme
waiting for bed.

Have Benedict either for real
or in her head
in her single lone bed.