It’s old and dirty
and the lid won’t fit.
Standing in the corner of my room,
quite useless, it’s as touching
as a once loved toy

Yes, sentimental now –
but if you’d stayed,
we woulkd have quarrelled
just the same as ever,
found excuses not to phone.

We never learn. We’ve grown up
struggling, frightened
that the family would drown us,
only giving in to love
when someone’s dead or gone.

For My Sister, Emigrating
Wendy Cope