Visiting Judith 1962 Poem by Terry Collett

Her mother
looks at me
there at the

door of her
cottage. Is
Judith still

allowed out?
I ask her.
She's upstairs

washing her
hair, she says.
Can I wait?

Wait for what?
For Judith
to go out,

I answer.
I suppose,
come in then,

she tells me.
I go in;
she closes the

front door
and shows me
where to sit

in the lounge.
Just wait here,
she utters.

She goes off
leaving me
all alone.

I'd been here
once before
for Judith's

14th birth-
day party
a whole month

after mine,
and we played
with others

(mostly kids)
hide and seek,
and we hid

in the tall-
boy in her
small bedroom,

kissing there
out of sight,
hearing voices

calling out.
Judith comes
down the stairs

her head wrapped
in a towel,
her mother

following her
just behind.
Judith smiles,

her eyes bright
like those stars
shining out

in dark nights