The Old Man, poet.

(Excerpted from the Gijsberts Family Yule Letter, draft copy – with permission from Daan.)

Cat fur, angora, sheep wool type stuff

My house is full of all kinds of fluff!

My wife is a crafty for the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism)

It’s such fun, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She gets to dress up, play princess and peasant

At feast she dines on meatloaf hedgehogs and pheasant

She dances and drinks, generally makes merry;

She meets characters with names like The Duke of Castleberry;

She’s immersed in medieval, a connoisseur of the past.

And why not? Why shouldn’t she? She’s having a blast!

She loves to re-make things, learn from generations long gone;

She exclaimed to me yesterday, “Look, I have needles of bone!”

Her appreciation for old ways, of the time-tried and true

Has grown so much this past year, she explained to me:

“Why else, my dear, would I have married you?”

(I’m a ‘crafty’.  Duh.)  (Isn’t he brilliant?!)  (Love you, sweetheart.)

3 thoughts on “The Old Man, poet.

  1. No wonder you keep him. I can’t wait until i to meet him myself or is he really just a figment? 😉
    BTW where can I get bone needles and a beautiul case like that. Oh, envy.
    Honnoria

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