The First Ray of Darkness.

Arthur Broomfield
lived in the next road to me,
across the dog-leg
made by his and mine.
Five houses off, no more.
A line of sight from house to house.
He lived with mum and dad -
as, indeed, did I.
But I was rising twelve
and he had fought in Italy.

His folk and mine were friends.
He took me places
I had never seen:
E.M.I. in London was a regular
where he bought my first L.Ps.
Beethoven's Fifth - the set,
and later, the Eroica;
a motor-cycle rally;
a concert held near-by.
My folk seemed not to mind.

He warned me about girls.
Not to get involved.
His fear was of diseases.
He'd seen in Italy
what men can catch from girls,
the agonies the men endured
in order to get cured.
But men with men was safe -
no dangers there!
Today you'd have to say
that he was grooming me.

One evening, whilst  listening
to music - Mozart's Clarinet
Concerto - the Adagio - it's
that clear in my mind - I saw
he was unbuttoning himself,
after which he looked at me,
inquiring if he'd have to do it
to himself - and what would I
like him to put on next - that's
musically speaking! I took my
courage in both hands, asked
for Haydn. 'What about the
"Farewell" Symphony?' I said.
...................................................

This is #9 in my Monday Suburban Village Series
I have also added it to Poet's United's Poetry Pantry at http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.co.uk/