Benny One Saturday Morning 1964

Benny One Saturday Morning 1964

A Poem by Terry Collett

I parked my cycle by the fence not far from the farmhouse and spotted Milka’s mother hanging out washing on the washing line. I walked towards her with my slow swagger. She smiled when she saw me. Milka’s in the bathroom at the moment, Benny, she said, but hopefully she won’t be long. I’ll get you a cup of tea and some toast in a few minutes, just finish putting this out first. I began to help her by handing items to her. I do wish she was more domestic, less of a dreamer, her mother said, spending so much time listening to that pop music, or reading those silly romance books. I gazed at her as she spoke, and studied her more closely than I had before. That’s that done, she said, let’s go get you that cup of tea and toast. She returned to the farmhouse and so did I, studying her movement, the full breast she had, that fine full figure. Take a seat, Benny, she said. I sat on one of the kitchen chairs around the large table. The boys are out fishing, she said, they were up early this morning, fishing rods and stuff. Do you like fishing? No, not my scene, I replied with a small smile. Mind you, it keeps them out of mischief, I suppose, but it leaves Milka hanging around the house like a lost soul once they've gone. I listened to hear if Milka was around, but I couldn't hear her. I watched as her mother busied herself making toast and making a pot of tea. She continued to talk and I half-listened, wondering what she would think if she had found Milka and me engaged in sex in bed last Saturday while she was out shipping in town, but we heard her car coming up the drive towards the farmhouse, and rushed to get dressed. I got downstairs and sat in the kitchen just as she came in with shopping bags. I said Milka had gone to powder her nose and helped her mother get in some of the shopping, while Milka finished dressing and tidying up the bed and room. Milka’s mother brought me a cup of tea and a plate of buttered toast, and smiled at me, then continued to talk, and I studied her swaying walk.

© 2025 Terry Collett


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Added on May 5, 2025
Last Updated on May 5, 2025

Author

Terry Collett
Terry Collett

United Kingdom



About
Terry 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..

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