Helen's Big Plans Poem by Terry Collett

Helen's Big Plans



Helen pushed
the old black doll's pram
over the bomb site
her doll Battered Betty
covered by a wool
knitted blanket

I blew my peashooter
at a tin can on the wall
of a bombed-out house

maybe we can have
our house built here
she said

the tin can fell
to the ground
a with a hollow crash
as I hit it
with a split-pea

where?
I said
looking round at her

here on this bomb site
she said
nodding to the area
around her

I didn't ask why "we"
I put another tin can
on the wall and aimed
with the peashooter

she began to wander around
leaving the doll's pram
behind her

here could be our kitchen
she said
standing in an area
of bricks and chickweed
but with no bath in it
as we have at home
but a separate bathroom
like they do
in posh houses

I blew the peashooter
at the tin can
and it fell
with a clatter

what do you think Benny?

I looked at her standing
with hands on her hips
her brown hair parted
into two plaits
her NHS glasses
thick lens
her eyes enlarge
gazing at me

looks ok to me
I said
unable to see anything
but brick and chickweed
and old stones

and maybe a sitting room
over here
she said
walking a few paces
to her right
and a fireplace here
one of those modern ones

yes I can see it now
I said
looking at her drab
green raincoat unbuttoned

can you?
she said excitedly

and bedrooms
how many?
I asked

she looked around her
scratching her
seven year old head

how many children
will we have?
she asked

how many did you want?
I asked

loads
she replied
looking around her

I pocketed my peashooter
and small bag
of split peas

how do you get them?
I asked

she looked at me
frowning
don't know
she said
don't you know?

I shook my head
I'm a seven year old boy
how the heck
would I know

she walked a bit more
maybe four bedrooms
just to be sure
she said

I looked at her walking
further on
her Wellington boots
mud splashed

let's go
get a couple of 1d drinks
I'm thirsty
all this talk
of houses and kids
I said

ok
she replied
but we'll have to
sort things out soon

I thought of the John Wayne film
my old man
was taking me to see

she thought(no doubt)
of curtain colours
and matching stuff

I walked on
as she walked behind
with pram and Betty
I had had enough.

Monday, October 6, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: childhood
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