He arrived unexpected,
and unknown to me, excited
but uncertain. Returning home
demobbed, still salty from the sea.

But nothing like the pictures
on Grandpa's pack of Players.
No bushy beard,
a sad weary smile,
a warm embrace.

So this was a father - mine.
Would I grow up like him?
How would Mum be? No welcome
home for others from our street.