Maybe Next Time 1961 Poem by Terry Collett

Lizbeth lay on her bed,
kicked off her shoes
in case her moaning mother
came up and moaned
about the shoes
on the eiderdown.

Afternoon light
through the window.

Benny. His name.

Had him here that once.
Wanted him to,
but he wouldn't.

What's it like?
The other girl said
find out yourself.

But he wouldn't.
Or couldn't.

She looked at her white socks,
wiggled her toes.

Wanted him in me.
Had time that time.

She smiled.
Mother came back early
from the shops that day.
What if? We hadn't though.
Just as well. Just in case.

School had been a bore.
All that maths nonsense
and the PE teacher on at her
because she had forgotten
to bring her PE clothes.
Not forgotten
left behind on purpose.

She looked around her room.
The floor had been tidied.
Her records stacked away tidily,
her soiled clothes
put in the wash basket,
the plate and cup and saucer
taken downstairs.

He was here in this room.
Here near the bed.
Almost had him undressed,
but he changed his mind
at the last minute.

What if. If what?
But it hadn't happened.
Maybe next time.

She gazed out the window.
Blue sky, white clouds
like death shrouds.