25/03/86

Pamela the vicar's daughter
Held the cheap red wine I'd bought her,
Examined what the label said
And smiled at me so sweetly.
Inviting me to step indoors
And cross the highly polished floors
To sit upon the sofa-bed
And chat away discreetly.

The evening was stretched before us,
Curtains drawn so no-one saw us
Neatly laid upon the table
Places just for two.
Opposite we sat, still flirting
Round and round the subject skirting,
Neither of us really able
To make the dream come true.

Then as the evening slipped away
We struggled for some more to say
All our social skills forgotten
Small talk wearing thin.
And as she rose to make some coffee
To offer chocolates or a toffee
I saw her tightly Levi'd bottom
And imagined it within.

Later, as we sat and cuddled
All my thoughts became so muddled
All the dreams of thirteen years
About to end tonight?
A sweaty brow, my courage waning
I made excuses not explaining.
A night like this could end in tears
And so I took My flight.

Through the window in I climbed
As the hour of two was chimed:
There was father sitting waiting
For his errant son.
Going red and saying little,
Thinking tempers might get brittle
Saying goodnight and quietly stating
The evening had been fun.

Twice next day my Father said
How much too late he'd got to bed
How he lay there full of worry
For what I might have done.
Said I nothing, I was not keen
To say how cowardly I'd been
And how I'd left in such a hurry:
Because I was too young.

©Crocodile Productions - 1986