No Worries Or Care 1974 Poem by Terry Collett

Dalya sleeps
in her sleeping bag
on the other side
of the tent.

I lay awake
thinking on the day
the visit
to the Van Gogh
museum.

The meal
in the restaurant.

Our conversation
on art and philosophy
and the psychology
of Wilhelm Reich.

Late night revellers
walk through
the base camp.

The rock music
from the loudspeakers
has ceased
and a peace
like deep fog
settles over us.

Someone drunkenly
sings going by.

When we made love
I noticed a mole
on her inner thigh.

I kissed it
for luck.

Tomorrow we make
the journey home
and each go
our separate way
our journey
in reverse
a fond farewell.

Seems an age
since we first met
that first day at Dover
awkwardly gazing
about us
waiting for
the minibus
to pick us up
to rover Europe's
camp-sites
and see the cities.

Keep in touch
she said
but I don't suppose
we will.

We live too far apart
to make it last.

A few late night
wanderers go by
into the night.

She sleeps peaceful
over there
like a child
without worries
or care.