Yehudit's Thoughts 1962 Poem by Terry Collett

You lie next
to your sister in bed
thinking of Benedict
the new boy at school.

He was on the school bus
down on the left next
to the Goldfinch kid.

Your sister snores,
mutters in her sleep,
moves and pulls
the blankets with her.

You wishes he
was next to you,
not her, him near
so you could
feel him there.

He smiled at you
as he came down
the bus to the front
to get out.

What's your name?
you asked him
outside Parrot's classroom.

Benedict, he said.
he didn't say much;
silent and shy,
he looked at the floor
or at the posters
on the wall.

He asked yours
as he meet you
after coming out
of Parrot's class
and you told him.

Others sniggered;
they usually do,
thinking no boy
could possibly
fancy you.

Your sister sighs,
you want to have him next
to you, not her.

You imagine
he is there,
next to you,
his body mere
inches away.

The moon in the corner
of the bedroom window
shines a sickly yellow;
the stars are few.

Even if he was in bed,
you muse
you wouldn't
know what to do.