Good deals are waiting on us
And though I fume and fuss
My nagging wife drags me off
To an alleged treasure trough.
I meekly mutter and whine
But weekends rain or shine
We seek out yard sale signs
Where we join loonies in line.
We will buy something I know
At every garbage sale show,
Hard earned money will flow
As around and around we go.
I complain, grumble and grunt
But she will stop for the hunt,
Pawing every nicknack in sight,
Brimming with heady delight.
There's doodads and thingamajigs
Doohickeys and homemade rigs
Heaped high among shiny baubles
On splintered tables that wobble.
Garish garments hang on racks
Circling the gaudy bric-a-brac,
Mismatched dishes are piled up
With chipped saucers and teacups.
Broken bicycles and tricycles lay
And my insane wife joins the fray
Crazily searching for an antique,
Any prized booty that is unique.
I slouch nearby sporting a frown
As she plops our money down,
Happily she stuffs the car trunk
With someone's disposable junk.
I detest yard sales with a passion
But she loves them beyond ration,
To me worn-out junk is just trash,
To her it's a hidden treasure stash.
©Written by: Kenneth J. Ellison 07-16-07
Song title: "Salt Creek"
Return Poetry By Ken
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