Meeting Juilet 1962

Juliet sits down

by the pond,

so do I,

summer day

sun above

filtering

through tall trees,

a few ducks

swim around,

dragonflies

skim water.

Can’t stay long,

she tells me,

my mum will

wonder where

I’ve got to.

Glad you came,

I answer. 

She studies

the ducks swim.

I study

her sitting

there, her fine

brown coloured

eyes and hair, 

her white blouse

and blue skirt.

I am late,

she tells me.

Late for what?

I asked her.

Coming on, 

she replies.

Coming on? 

I ask her.

Periods,

she replies.

I catch on.

How late then?

Three whole days,

she answers.

I look at

the swimming

ducks, and think

What it means.

I’ve been late

before though,

she utters,

gazing at

me, her eyes

searching me.

It happens,

she tells me.

Look must go,

or my mum

will wonder.

She kisses

my cheek and

walks away 

through the woods.

I watch her

go away,

then look back

at the ducks.

I sit there

thoughts alive

wondering

what comes next.

Life can be

quite complex.