Lost Dream Poem by Terry Collett

Lizbeth prepares for bed;
undresses, washes,
brushes teeth,
gets into bed
and turns off
the bedside lamp.

The moon light
coming through the window
makes an eerie feel
to her room.

What a waste of a day;
all dressed up
and out on her bike
to see Benedict
at the cottage.

He's gone out
with his father
to his father's work
in the woods,
his mother said,
I expect he''ll be collecting
bones and bird's eggs
and fossils in chalk.

Was he expecting you?
His mother asked.

No, Lizbeth had replied,
hiding her frustration
and anger, just came
on the off chance.

His mother said
she could come in
for a cup of tea and cake,
but Lizbeth declined
and rode back home again
in a foul four letter mood.

Then her own mother
had a go at her
about the state
of her room
and the leaving
of soiled linen everywhere
and last night's plate
and cutlery were
under your bed,
she had moaned.

Lizbeth pulls the blanket
over her shoulder
and looks at the wall
by her bed.

She pretends he's there
beside her now;
imagines him
laying there
butt naked,
hand on her back,
his thingamajig
(she forgets
the name of it
in the book)
poking her belly;
him staring at her,
his hazel eyes
wide and sexy.

She closes her eyes;
pretends he's kissing her;
his hand along her thigh;
his lips hot and wet.

What would he say?
She asks herself,
imagining him
parting her legs
(she'd read that bit
in the book)
and her father's voice
says(on the landing
outside her room)
to her mother
(moody cow)
have you put out
the cat and locked
the back door?

The imagined Benny
has gone;
the space beside her
in bed now vacant.

Her eyes are open;
the moonlight
making patterns
on the wall
and now she can't
make love to him
at all.