I loved all my childhood hand me downs,
They were the best a young girl could ever have.
Even though they were once someone elses first,
They were now my gift of second hand.
They may not all have fit that well,
Some of them were a bit faded, and tattered from wear.
But when you haven't anything much,
They were riches from someone who'd shared.
Shoes that had a scuff or two,
But all comfortable just the same.
My hand me downs protected me,
Through harsh winter's cold and spring rains.
Coats that had to be belted up,
So that they would fit my tiny frame.
No matter what other's thought of them,
I loved them just the same.
I've grown up now and could afford,
The best that money can buy.
But still I find the joy in shopping hand me down stores,
While loading up on things that get me by.
By: Linda Winchell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem