(Insert Original Title Here)

Spring Cleaning

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."