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Poem

I’ve been to the auction house, I go there once a week
But still no luck, I cannot find the rarity I seek
The Chinese urn to one side of my fireplace stands there
Looking kinda lonely as it’s meant to be a pair

My wife is always moaning that it looks so out of place
It dominates the left hand side, but on the right is space
It’s worth a lot of money but an antique dealer reckoned
That they’d be almost priceless if I were to find a second

I thought I’d never find one, it’s been quite a lengthy wait
I can’t believe that I’m about to get my urn a mate
I’ve passed this shop a hundred times; it seems today’s the day
This shop sells pre-loved items and they’ve got one on display

Okay, so they knew their stuff and wouldn’t drop their price
I had to pay them fifty quid but it’ll look real nice
Scooping up a bargain I find well and truly thrilling
And frankly even fifty quid means I just made a killing

I was on cloud nine for urns like these fetch more in pairs
I drove home and I rushed inside, to hear my wife upstairs
Excitedly, I yelled, “You’ll never guess what I just did.”
She said, “Me first… the junk shop bought your urn for seven quid.”

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