My Father's Clothes


the time bell rings...


...the joints of his leather jacket creak as he gets up
jeans with varicose veins don't walk as fast as they used to
but his trainers are on auto-pilot
they know this route so well

dark tonight
and his glasses are blurry
and these days more than a little jaundiced round the rims
but his socks are tired and sore
they want their bed

his t-shirt wheezes in the night air
it's lost all shape over the years
and it's stained
and it's ripped
and it's faded
and it's gone saggy round the waist
the way they do

his cap's going threadbare
thin on top
it's seen its share of rain
of sweat
of thoughts running riot within it never seeing daylight...


...later on the floor of his room
they all sleep where they fall
but too few hours later
that other bell rings
and they must get on and do their job again