Jane And You And The Primroses Poem by Terry Collett

Those are primroses
Jane said
pointing to flowers
in a hedgerow

after leaving
the water tower
and walking
by the farm

the smell of cows
and dung
and the sound of birds
and her voice distinct

soft as a water coloured painting
her left hand
in her grey coat
her hair

brushed straight
touching the collar
we ought not to pick them
she said

they're best left
where they belong
for all to see
as you went

to pick them
with your fingers
for your mother back home
I'll show you cowslips

they're yellow too
she added
taking your hand in hers
walking you onward

the sun beginning
to warm your face
the Downs in the distance
the trees

the fields
the variety of greens
dark and light
you told her

about the bombsites
in London where you lived
how few flowers
there were there growing

except in the shops
she listened
her eyes moving
over you

her lips slightly parted
white teeth
just visible
her cheeks pale

the coat parted
at the neck
the smoothness
of her skin

beneath her chin
how the only birds you saw
were pigeons and sparrows
not the variety

you'd seen around
the countryside
there and about
you both paused

as the farm
came into view
the buildings
and farmhouse

the cowshed
the cowpats
along the road
the smell stronger

look out for the black dog
you said
it bites
and you pulled up

your sleeve
and showed her
the healed wound
on your lower arm

where the dog had bitten
she ran her finger over
the softness of her skin
on yours

a tickling along your nerves
as if for the first time
you realized
the spark of love

the joy of being alive
the sensation
like the first kiss
months earlier

the dog barked
from the farm
her finger lingering softly
upon your arm.