the trinkets that clutter my path?
What others find useless?
Abhorrent items of dimming demise?
These treasures, placed alone,
but not lonely, discarded by the wise.
my impediments to grasp?
Behold the brass and trashy ring.
Whilst the melee be over
seemingly rudimentary things?
I suppose, a cherish to all, would-be, the surmise.
Perhaps, a charm had been given to another.
And, with little esteem or commotion
found the acreage below my feet.
A sense of awe omits to find a boulder among the sandpit.
What sort of apparition gather here?
Laying the yesterdays at my stand.
Laying the given ever so near.