GRACE IN ST JAMES'S PARK 1940A Poem by Terry CollettA WOMAN AND MAN IN LONDON IN 1940Philip has come to the hospital and taken me out to the James Park near Big Ben; (I was already dressed, one of the nurses dressed me). We're near the pond and ducks and swans, he says. I gaze to where he says and see only blackness through my blind eyes, but I hear people and voices and ducks. I'm in a wheelchair; he is sitting beside me on a bench. I feel his hand take mine: how are your legs? He asks. The leg stumps are painful, I say, they are some days more than others. He strokes my hand. What are you doing at the Foreign Office? I ask. Can't say, hush hush stuff, he says, what with the War on and that. I turn to where he is trying to give an impression of sight: do you really like me? I ask. Of course I do, he replies, wouldn't be here with you otherwise would I? I suppose not, I say. I feel his hand hold mine gently. Clive was like that holding my hand. But that was before we had sex and before he died at Dunkirk. Not just stringing me along are you? I say suddenly. I wouldn't do that, he replies, what makes you think I would or am? Just wondering what you see in a blind woman with out legs, I say. I think I love you, Grace, he says, from that first time I saw you. Love me? I say surprised, staring through blind eyes at him, gathering each of his words into my mind. Yes, I do, he says, his voice more certain. How do you feel about me? he asks. I am unsure and look away into another darkness and say: haven't thought about that; I have been in such a state with the blindness and losing my legs, I haven't thought about anything else. He says: of course you have; I didn't mean to cause you more stress. He is silent and I hold his hand tighter not wanting him to go off. You are kind and have been so helpful to me and I should have thought about you, and I have, but feelings are such complicated things, I am in different world, I say. I shut up and I feel him kiss my cheek, and he says: it is fine. We sit and I hear ducks and people and his hand stroking mine. © 2016 Terry Collett |
AuthorTerry CollettUnited KingdomAboutTerry Collett has been writing since 1971 and published on and off since 1972. He has written poems, plays, and short stories. He is married with eight children and eight grandchildren. on January 27t.. more..Writing
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