The last of off season,
Now comes to an end.
Cash in our pockets,
And eager to spend.

Eyes focused on posts,
Of which we pass by.
Searching for bargains,
In June and July.

Eyes wide and open,
Not one sign do we shun.
Upon our arrival,
A mini marathon we run.

Jumping hurdles of obstacles,
In our path they may lay.
Catapulting over ditches,
Nothing can stand in our way.

As we reach our destination,
We scan the inventory.
From blenders and knick knacks,
To the latest love story.

But isn't it surprising,
What we really "needed" is marked sold.
Or in the hands of someone else,
Tightly clutched in their hold.

It's that time of season,
We've waited so long for.
To find that one special treasure,
To spruce up our drab decor.

Right into August and September,
That's where you'll find me.
Driving over the country side,
On a spending spree.

Who knows what I'll find,
Out there and dirt cheap.
Everything piled in the trunk,
In one giant heap.

There is only one tiny problem,
I admit and you should know.
There's no place to put it,
So I can proudly display and show.

So all of my treasures,
I must now downscale.
Alone on my lawn I sit,
Holding my own..
Yard Sale.

©Elizabeth Ann Bushey
July-14-2006©
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