By Anita Mondragon
During my early years of childhood, our family was very poor. We lived in a ratty old house with plaster walls, most of which was missing. My mom would stuff old rags in between the cracks to keep the cold out. I wore hand-me-downs until I was eight years old, and slept in a crib until I was six. Christmas for us was very different indeed. We struggled to have food on the table, so my brother and I rarely had presents. This poem came from a memory of one Christmas in particular.-Anita
A ratty old shack
On the poor side of town;
No Christmas lights
Anywhere to be found.
Inside it’s doors,
Lived a family of four;
Wanting…and hungry…
So very poor!
I remember it well, Read more…
