Benny Imagines It 1962 Poem by Terry Collett

When I got home
from school
and after saying hello
and how are you
to my mother
I went to my bedroom.

I tuned my small radio
to a classical
music station
and listened
hoping something
would be played
that I imagined
Yochana would play
on the piano.

Something with violin
and orchestra
was being played
didn't know what it was.

I stood by the window
and peered out
at the garden
and the orchard
on my left.

It was a summery
afternoon.

I though about
Yochana's kiss
on the field
at midday recess.

Just the one kiss.

I licked my lips
trying to capture
a tiny particle of her
where our lips met.

The violin work finished
Beethoven the man said.

There was talking
from the radio.

The man next door
was in his garden
pruning his roses.

He took me
to hospital
some months back
when his son
accidentally cut
my foot
with a scythe
one evening.

The voice on the radio
said the name Schubert
and piano music began.

I looked back
at the room
and imagined Yochana
was playing it.

I was behind her
looking over
her shoulder
as she played
taking in her perfume
and sensing her there
imagining her fingers
playing on the keyboard.

My lips
on her neck
kissing
and her fingers playing
and not a note missing.