Hand-Me-Downs

He stood by the counter a raggamuffin in a rag-tag of rags. 
A young boy in too-big-for-his-feet hand me down shoes. 
His hand me down jeans loose on his hips 
covered by the hem of a filthy, hand me down shirt. 
He hands over his hand me down wealth
a plethora of coin that has burned holes in history’s pockets. 
The store keeper hands the boy down a dream, 
and hands him back his hand me down cash. 

“A dream is free.” Said the clerk. 
The hand me down frown of the boy turned around, 
Into a smile, a hand me down smile, given by the clerk.