Just a heap of old rags
Slung over the fence
Put out in the sunshine to dry
Seemingly useless -- no good at all
To those who are just passing by.
But soon they'll be trimmed
so each piece will match
Carefully hemmed
And then smoothly pressed;
Each stamped with a pattern
Then trimmed with bright thread,
Now especially looking their best.
No longer just rags
But a nicely matched set
of tea-towels for someone to own;
They now have a purpose,
A reason to be
And soon they will have a nice home.
As somebody's treasure
They proudly will serve
Never once their duty to dread;
Those frazzled and tattered
Useless old rags
Are now Treasured Memories instead.
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