Bags


Bags

Once I was a shiny new satchel on its way to school. 
The universe was full of glittering galaxies.
Or a bright red handbag with a new purse and a copper penny.
The shop windows were full of possibilities.
Matching shoes eager for adventure and in search of cosmopolitan.
A travel bag with badges and stickers and labels for far flung countries.
Undiscovered islands.
A maternity bag with expectations.
A shopping bag full of hope.
A backpack of exercise.
A trolley of library books.
Now I am just a battered old briefcase.
Wrinkled and worn.
Disillusioned with life and its empty metaphors.
A life lived in bags.
Hand me another drink.

Jane Frances

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