Late Afternoon Muse 1962 Poem by Terry Collett

Late Afternoon Muse 1962.

Late afternoon sun. 
The pond still: no 
ducks or swans or 

dragonflies. You lying 
on your back beside 
me, hands behind 

your head. You talk 
of your mother, of how 
she sees all things 

from a narrow perspective,  
how your father avoids 
her when he comes in 

from the farm and fields 
for meals. I note, as I turn 
my head towards you,  

how bright your eyes are;  
the stretched pull of your 
dress where breasts push;  

your brown hair wavy as 
sea tides. You talk of our 
first kiss, evening late 

December, beneath stars 
and moon. I wish to kiss 
you once more, put lips 

to your brow, your cheek 
and lips; to undress you 
with my eye's fingers,  

make love to you in my 
mind's scope, some day 
for real, I dream, I hope.