When I am not busy, I think of you,
sitting on a table, across a room,
unsmiling round the camp in brown or blue,
then suddenly the sunshine breaking through.

When I am not busy, I think of you,
longing to see you, hoping you will come
at reg or break or dinner or after school,
any time at all - but you never do.

I catch my breath on entering a room
or round a corner case you should be there,
making my days so long I long for sleep
to free myself from all this aching gloom.

I have been here before but long ago
with other women not as young as you.
Then I had less than they to lose,but still
the strain of longing aches as ever so.

I could have come and taken you away,
careless of consequence, a week ago
but then the shock of seeing you in that
so long expected, unexpected way

as you should be with someone of your age,
unworried by my ageing, ageless cares,
able to explore life by yourself,
unsullied by the trivia of this page !

How could you fit the clothes I foist upon you,
attired in my wearying waking dreams?
Perhaps you are sensible enough to stay away
until this mangy quarantine is through.

Knowing that this will pass as such a thing should,
I hope I have not caused you any harm
and in this passion for your precious youth
you will in later time find something good.