It was lovely- but it didn’t really fit…
What else am I supposed to do with it?
A garment of such particular style
(One that’s been off the scene a while)
With crocheted flowers adorning the cuffs
And finished with an elegant ruff,
The sort of thing I’d never wear
Though unquestionably fashioned with loving care.
The guilt I feel for vestiary choice
Now unlikely to find its voice,
Imagination beginning to create
A ‘style’ where others might hesitate,
Should I manage to accept the gift with grace,
Not saying too much by the look on my face…
After all, ‘tis the giving and not the receiving
Of gifts that matters, I’ve grown up believing.
And with that, the various stories to tell
Of Christmas Heaven and Christmas Hell
-All in good humour, you understand:
It’s not in my gift to be underhand.
A little creativity is all that’s needed
-I’ve seen it in the magazines
And shan’t be impeded!
Going out in the dark, a possible solution
To this sartorial convolution …
*In loving recognition of the senior knitters in my extended family. Fond memories of black and white Christmas TV to the rhythm of clicking needles