Why is it when it comes to Spring cleaning
That my hubby and I can’t agree
On things that should go in the dustbin
Or what an antique might be.
Right now we are cleaning the garage
And very soon there’s a pile
Of various bits and pieces
That have cluttered the place for a while.
There’s that old battered log basket
Now says he “You’ve no need for that”
But I put it back in the corner
“Sure it might do a bed for the cat.”
This box of odd cups and saucers
Now my mind seems to run overtime
I can see them being hailed at an auction
And claimed as a great antique find.
An old moth-eaten felt hat,
Sits balanced on top of the pile
Now I can remember with fondness
When it was worn with great style.
There are various one legged soldiers
And a small toy tractor and plough
Ah! Many’s the time they gave pleasure
It seems cruel to abandon them now.
Then hubby looks up in frustration
And says he “It’s quite plain to see
If I keep standing here any longer
An antique myself I will be”
by Angela Hayes