Your mother calls
just as you have
finished dressing
Benny's here
she calls up
won't be long
you say
looking at yourself
in the dressing table mirror
Benny is early
you dab a wet finger
over your eyebrows
bet Mum's chatting him up
like she does
you muse
flicking back your hair
bet she fancies him herself
you muse frustratedly
you look around your room
the bed tidy
you thinking
of the other Saturday
when your mum
was out shopping
Benny was there
and you and he
were going at it great
hurry up up there
your mother calls again
you sigh
and open
your bedroom door
and go down stairs
just coming
you say
and into the kitchen
where your mother
is at the side
preparing toast and tea
and Benny sitting in a chair
with his hazel eyes
and brown hair.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem