To tickle my fancy,
I like places plain.
From fancy environments,
I must abstain.
The same goes for clothing
And housewares and food.
For anything showy,
I’m not in the mood.
I sometimes like funky
And whimsy is cool,
But gaudy or flashy
I would overrule.
I don’t want things boring
Or sterile or bland,
Yet there’s lots of room
Between tepid and grand.
I thrive in the middle,
For deep in my gut,
I’m far from a pedigree,
More like a mutt.
The thrift shop takes donations –
Clothing, housewares, jewelry, books
And much of it is junk, but some
Deserving second looks.
I rarely make a purchase but
At times I fill a bag
With items I no longer use
For them to sort and tag.
It hasn’t happened yet, but still,
I wonder how I’d feel
To see a stranger wearing
My old clothes – would they appeal?
I ditched them for a reason
But to see them looking fine
On another person’s body,
Would I wish they still were mine?
The quality is not the best,
The choices not too many,
But it's the place to go to save
The so-called "pretty penny."
The aisles are filled with housewares,
Wrapping paper, cards and toys.
You'll find candy and cosmetics,
Socks and bibs for girls or boys.
Decorations for a party,
School supplies and bags of snacks;
There are sheets and towels and blankets,
Even underwear on racks.
I would hate to have to shop there,
Though so many people do.
Still, it's hard to pass one by without
A stop to see what's new.