She always finds treasure in the trash,

in the back of vintage stores, 

and the racks of charities.

It’s exclusive.

Don’t tell anyone,

the lace was wrought of dying worms.

The rocks she holds

are not gemstones. 

Four bucks. 

She grows tired seeking out what makes her high

Low, low growth 

seen in her company’s stocks

She finds treasure but stays hush

It’ll only collect dust.

A girl in her prime

becomes forgotten by the clock.