Out of Style
Though I hate giving clothes away,
There comes a time that I’ll
Put something on and must admit
It’s really out of style.
That denim dress I used to love
With jet black velvet collar,
Would likely, in a thrift shop,
Bear a tag that says “One dollar.”
And likewise for that flowered frock,
So comfy when I wore it.
It now appears so frumpy
Even I cannot ignore it.
Those high-waist jeans and puff-sleeved shirts
Have kept my closet crowded;
And when I try them on, my husband’s eyes
Grow glazed and clouded.
“Awful! Ugly! Throw them out!”
I hear his sage advice.
They’ve not been worn in many years
So it’s no sacrifice.
Yet still, I fold them lovingly
And pack them for the poor.
Perhaps someone can use the clothes
I won’t wear anymore.
I picture people picking through
My former favorites pile,
And hear them cluck their tongues and say,
“Was this thing once in style?”
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