He was

He was

An accidental tailor

With dreams to be an artist

But didn’t measure up

The family were against it

Generations of clothiers

Wielding scissors

Built a platform for the business

Whatever he presented

Was cut to pieces,

Laid to rest

He would design men’s suits

From the patterns he produced

Matched colours with material

Finely stitched, tailor-made

The best in town

Came to a conclusion

He enjoyed it

Passed this knowledge on

To a disgruntled family physician

Who had contemplated the priesthood

After several drinks

The doctor shared his story

A father of three boys

Who had delivered so many babies

He was an honorary uncle

To half the town

A godfather to the rest

He went to church on Sunday

Read the service

Now and then

Ran a support group

For ex-servicemen

Struggling to adapt

To a uniform life in civvies

Helped them to sit tight

Without the benefit of standing orders

The tailor helped

Him to understand he had the best

Of two worlds

Gave him a charcoal portrait

To take home

A cartoon of him wearing

A dog collar and a stethoscope

The doctor put it on the mantelpiece

Where it stood

In pride of place

His face, smiling out upon

His wife and their three sons

More by luck

Than any reason

He now understood

His truest calling

Was both to give and to receive

In equal measure

It was a pleasure

To believe,

He had served a higher purpose

Without missing out

On these few cherished things

His life was truly blessed

And yes

There was much more left

For him to give.