Treasure

Upon a garbage heap,
There laid a book.
I stooped down low,
To take a look.

How could they throw,
This book to burn?
As I its pages,
Began to turn...

Pictures were there,
Of days gone by.
A turret, a garret,
Both caught my eye.

A knight on his horse,
Engravings on tin.
These were the things,
I was interested in.

O how could it be,
This book was a pleasure.
And what one threw away,
Was another man's treasure.


E.P. 1908 - 1989