Boot Sale Poem by Ray Feasey

How much is time worth when you get up at five
To attend a boot sale when your barley alive
It’s an event you agree to but don’t want to do
But you stick to your word as it’s expected of you

Cost a small fee to enter and freezes your bones
As your approached early hour by a dealer for phones
Then another for jewellery as you try to unload
All the odds and ends you will sell - so you’re told!

Sun starts to shine and visibility’s gained
As you begin to take comfort in the fact it’s not rained
Then the barter begins as the punters stroll through
And make offers that shock and surely cannot be true

Then midday you are buzzing as you’ve shifted some wares
Although much is still left and may return under stairs
It transpires it’s successful as you count out your cash
And worthwhile after all as it was all just ‘trash’

Copyright © 2008 Ray Feasey