PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

On my way back from getting the last money out of my bank, which was fifteen dollars;
I have a story to tell that makes me want to joyously scream and holler.
I was picking up trash for poetic inspiration;
On my way back, I was gathering much perspiration.
It seems that I didn't really need my coat;
It ended up being a burden, as if it were a tree-eating goat.
I ran into a lady who looked out for trash as treasure;
She seemed as if she took adventurous measures.
She was a lot more fit than I;
By the end of the walk, I thought I might die or cry.
Because it is my fault that, too much, I smoke;
That really is no joke.
Anyway, she took me up hills with peaks;
Where she showed me to some sterling silver antiques.
It was a serving tray and some beautiful silver pitchers;
I was lucky she was not collecting trash from snitchers.
For, I don't know if people would want others to take their trash;
On the possibility that strangers could make some cash.
Also I found a small bookshelf on which my kitties might rest;
We'll see if it passes the test.
I can't wait until my common-law husband has had enough rest;
For, this morning, I feel that I have collected a treasure chest!