Searching for our house, your eyes gleamed when you saw this and decided we had found home: 
a sturdy dog house, surely strong enough for quite a gentle giant. 

You had visions for it, knowing exactly what you wanted.  
You brought in a poker table with leather top and side pockets for game chips, 
decorated with vintage posters from feather and boa days, a special chair for me. 

This shed made our home your castle, 
and your poker table provided escape, wealth, chance, and deeper connections to others. 

When friends suffered illness, you made it all the more accessible and comfortable; 
when each member lost a loved one, you created a space of listening among jokes and cigars. 

A treehouse in youth, a motorcycle in your adventure years, and now a den for fellowship, 
searching for our house, your eyes gleamed when you saw this and knew we had found home. 

This shed made our home your castle.
A favorite among all your friends, you created their haven for games and deepened friendships. 
It grew richer with each passing year, each joke and confidence, and a patina of smoke and tales.

Death transformed every aspect of our lives during the world-wide crisis, and friends moved or fell away. 
Yesterday a young man discovered your poker table as front lawn trash and seized it with bright eyes just like yours had been.