I’m presently having a major clear out, trying to simplify things and make sure there’s plenty of space for my cat when I get one. As I was doing so, I stumbled across a random strip of cloth, which reminded me of some fun times with friends, and inspired a very rough rhyme about it. Enjoy!
A Scrap of Cloth
Let me tell you the story,
Of a yard long strip of linen.
It never saw great glory,
Just the memories it brings.
I was a reenactor once,
It was my irritating stock.
Opposed to the Bonnie Ponce,
Our unit’s sole Grenadier.
Bombless I marched behind our Sarge,
Tucked my music into his jacket.
And when he called the charge,
I’d loose my stock to play British Grenadiers.
See that rusty stain just there,
I got that fighting a Jacobite.
A night skirmish he won quite fair,
But opened my thumb with his blade.
Kept my neck warm huddled by the fire,
With friends on a cold winter night.
Daring our head wench’s ire,
To sneak some extra food.
An insignificant tattered strip,
With so many memories woven in.
As it slowly leaves my grip,
Consigned to forgotten again.