Something Was Missing 1965 Poem by Terry Collett

Tilly and I went back
to some of old haunts,
one of which was our
lake(Tilly's name for

the pond) , and we sat
there on the grass, and
gazed at the water's skin,
sunlight playing there,

and ducks swam, and
the odd swan went by
on the other side, and
dragonflies hovered

over the skin of water,
then zigzagged away.
Love it here, Tilly said,
so peaceful. She lay back

on the grass and looked
up at the sky. I lay beside
her. I was 14 when we
came here that first time,

I said. I was 13, she said
turning to look at me, near
Christmas it was, and cold,
and I had that big coat

my mother made me wear,
she said. That first kiss we
had I can still feel it, I said.
She smiled. Yes me too.

She sighed. Now I'm 17,
she said, and no longer at
school, and have to work,
and not see you as often as

I once did. I gazed at her
eyes, blue and deep. We
work at different places,
at different times, and I'm

in town, and you're out
here in the countryside still,
I said. She put out a hand,
and her fingers touched my

cheek. We made love back
there, she said, it was my
first time, and it seemed
a mixture of adventure and

disappointment, as these
things are at times, and I
remember a squirrel was
up there looking down at us,

and I felt spied on. I smiled,
yes we were, I guess, that
darn squirrel bet it went and
told your mother what it'd seen,

I said. It could have done but
she didn't know thank God;
gosh if she'd known I'd not
be here now, Tilly said. I leaned

towards her, and kissed her lips,
and she hugged me close, and
we lay there kissing, but looking
back, I think it was not there as
it had been; something was missing.