The Jacket Poem by Siobhan Hattersley

The Jacket

"I just don't get why you've still got
That jacket, it's all worn out
Old and tattered
not even real leather, should have
listened to me
Daylight robbery, you just couldn't see"

No sooner were the words said,
I was perched by my mother
At the edge of the bed,
I cleared my throat and began to explain
Shook my head, and start by saying:

"This PVC jacket is worth more to me,
Than genuine leather could ever be
Almost treacherous to have it
replaced,
The cracks in the fabric are the problems
I've faced

Worn out patch on the shoulder
from the burdens of time
That eroded the fabric,
My skin thickened beneath the fibres
Of this jacket

I've grown into the image
Of me it portrayed,
In this jacket I have been loved,
I've been hurt and betrayed
Since the time of it's purchase
At a fragile nineteen years
I've survived nights filled with laughter
And mornings after, filled with tears

All in that jacket

I still remember, clear as day
going into town to pay
Twenty quid for my faux leather friend


Thinking nothing of a pay day spend
That saw me through cold
3am journeys home,
And head clearing walks all on my own.
It's been shoved in the corners
of every dingy Romford bar
Gosh that jacket's seen more dramas
Than mechanics have seen cars

And so that's why I can't get rid,
Though this jacket no longer fits"

With that my mother changed her mind,
And held up the jacket,
Looking front and behind
Then with a sigh, she simply said
"Let me do my best with a needle and thread"