My old sweater
The threads, they are fraying
One by one, the buttons fell off until the last
But my old sweater
I slip my arms through the sleeves
Things in its pockets I hide
It keeps me warm on those cold nights
And still my old sweater
Even so I would not trade
My Old Sweater
Does not claim to be better
Than your new mini-skirt
Or your fifty dollar skimpy shirt
The color is not staying
There’s a large hole in the shoulder
Making it that much less bolder
There is no sentimental value, no sense of a past
The pockets could use a sewing machine
It might be the most beat up thing you’ve ever seen
Does not claim to be better
Than your new mini-skirt
Or your fifty dollar skimpy shirt
Not always an easy thing to achieve
I wrap the cloth around me
So my old ratty pajamas you will not see
If you had ever seen all that’s there, you might have died
I wrap my hands in the extra length
Even though the old sweater could use more strength
It is a shield that keeps out frights
It watches me as I grow
All things about me it must know
Does not claim to be better
Than your new mini-skirt
Or your fifty dollar skimpy shirt
What you have for what I’ve made
My old sweater is practically my home
I am not afraid to live in it alone