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Poem

I think at first perhaps she pitied me
With my fumbling teenaged kissing
But to her as a separated mother 
I provided some love she was missing.
She risked her very reputation.
I, perhaps, risked the beating of my life
For though he no longer wanted her
Demanded she be chaste obedient wife 
I would slip through the dark village streets
Carefully check the area around her door
Then give our special knock and soon
I‘d be in her arms and bed once more.
I was saved by the rain one time
For I took the bus instead of walking
And saw his two mates in a doorway
Watching the houses, standing talking.
I sat and watched them for hours
From across the road in a small bar
Until he came to collect them,
All driving off in his old car.
And she was frightened when I arrived,
Knew he’d been watching, silently wept.
I remember a very tender loving,
Dressed very quietly as she still slept
To leave very early the next morning
Trying to beat dawn and sunrise;
For this was a farming village and there 
Could be many early waking eyes.
She taught me to be a lover and I loved her 
But I was still just a green and callow teen.
One day my knock was unanswered
As though our love had never been.
In such a small village
There was no chance we wouldn’t meet
So I learned to nod and return her smile
And we passed as friends on the street.

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