Poetry Friday - My Dad did

I only found this Sophie Hannah poem this week, so it has replaced another. Sophie Hannah is now firmly entrenched as one of my favourite poets of all time, though I am half a box of tissues the poorer for it:

Your Dad Did What?

Where they have been, if they have been away,

or what they've done at home, if they have not -

you make them write about the holiday.

One writes My Dad did. What? Your Dad did what?

That's not a sentence. Never mind the bell.

We stay behind until the work is done.

You count their words (you who can count and spell);

all the assignments are complete bar one

and though this boy seems bright, that one is his.

He says he's finished, doesn't want to add

anything, hands it in just as it is.

No change. My Dad did. What? What did his Dad?

You find the 'E' you gave him as you sort

through reams of what this girl did, what that lad did,

and read the line again, just one 'e' short:

This holiday was horrible. My Dad did.

Sophie Hannah