My father came to England
from another country.
My father’s mother came to England
from another country
but my father’s father
stayed behind.
So my dad had no dad here
and I never saw him at all.
One day in spring
some things arrived:
a few old papers,
a few old photos
and – oh yes –
a hulky bulky thick checked jacket
that belonged to the man
I would have called “Grandad”.
The Man Who Stayed Behind.
But I kept that jacket
and I wore it
and I wore it
and I wore it
till it wore right through
at the back.
