Striking white hair almost
Encircling her young old face
Connie sat quietly at her desk
A seeming fixture in the place.
Had she lost her loved one
In the last World War?
I knew she was a spinster
But didn't know any more.
Connie was attractive
And fifty so Alan said
To us sixteen year olds
That meant nearly dead.
I would sit and look at her
Sit and fantasise
About lying there between
Imagined white thighs
Looking into her eyes
From way up above
As she taught me how
To please her in love.
Once she caught me looking
During a hormonal rush
Gave me her warm smile
And I started to blush.
Just for a moment or two,
Until I broke and looked away,
She held my gaze
Eye to eye that special day.
As the telephone rang
The incident passed
And as I answered
Her gaze dropped at last.
I'm sure it was my imagination
For she really wasn't that kind.
But in that time I though
She'd been reading my mind.
I felt embarrassed
Felt exposed
But in a trice
The incident closed.
The spell was broken
The clock moved on
Any imagined bond
Broken and gone.
It never happened again.
A girl of my own generation
Caught my eye for
A more normal infatuation.
Fantasies of Connie passed
As such things do
But even now I'm not sure
If that lady ever knew.
I only know
That for a little while
I'd felt special, held captive
By that young old smile.
That was sixty years ago
So why should I find
Those days suddenly
Surfacing in my mind.
