Scraps
Momma made Dorothy a dress from the scraps off the factory floor,
And a quit from worn out garments that were worn before.
And the old buttons that survived became the christmas sock dolls eyes.
She raised a family just on scraps, that kept us warm and had our backs.
So please forgive me when I smile
at pants with patches and re-darned gloves.
To you they look like garbage.
But to me they look like love.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
