Olive hues draw in the preparing,
Azure heavens push the clock
Set the pricing in her hands.
I have examined the trinkets
And eyed the knickknacks
Avoiding the blaring price tags,
She only speaks to me "One man's trash,
Is another man's treasure."
Each sage season, I question
And she responds the same.
Spring is the mischief in me
And that's where her sanity falls.
The design of "is it really?" stirs my mind.
If it were a treasure, wouldn't it be seen by all?
The trash transforms to treasures
But her treasure is of green paper and silver metal
She only says "One man's trash,
Is another man's treasure."
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/1212464-288-k720629.jpg)
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RandomPoems about my life...and other random shite. Enjoy!