The Jumper Poem by Chris Darlington

The Jumper
So much can be told by this old picture of me wearing a given jumper.
Hidden among its well-worn fabric and faded colours and patterns.
The hint of perfume my sister had borrowed to impress a new boyfriend
Some days I feel the jumper’s warmth around me like a cocoon even now
Like a family hug I longed for but never received.
I could tell the jumpers real shape after it had been worn by my sister.
I cried long in to the night in the cold bed and felt ashamed
Because of having to wear girl’s clothes in public.
These hand-me-down memories linger inside me
It was the last time I was ever close to my older sister
Who now probably wears designer knitwear and expensive perfume?
Maybe one day she’ll post me a hug in the post, second class of course
If she did it would probably be second-hand or seem old fashioned or too late now.