A Poet's Garage Sale

I’m having a garage sale
Though I don’t have a garage.
Come check out all my offerings –
You’ll see a strange montage.

I have similes and metaphors
So old that they’re clichés.
There are sentences and verses
Budding writers can rephrase.

From a stack of nouns quite towering
Are so many you can choose;
Mix and match with all my adjectives –
You simply cannot lose.

There’s a vat of verbs just waiting,
Some with adverbs still attached;
And a box of prepositions,
With its lock no longer latched.

There might be a spare conjunction
Hiding underneath the rhymes;
As for interjections – Ha!
They’re rare as Mercury-head dimes.

Yet if you pay me a visit,
You might find the words you need;
I’ve been cleaning up my clutter
And there’s good stuff, guaranteed.

So come pick through my possessions
‘Cause I’m lightening my load.
Then feel free to write a sonnet
Or a limerick or ode.

For garage sales held by poets
Are, to me, the most inviting,
Since your purchases may point you
To the pathway paved with writing.