Ode To Purses

Ode To Purses

From big to little, latched or zipped I always carry a purse.

They rarely left my side.

My first purse was burgundy red and maple brown,

Dad said I should carry one. "You're a young lady, you need one to carry your things."

So, I did, and ever since I have held a purse.

My second purse was dyed a bright crimson red; it lacked a zipper or a latch.

It left nowhere for my items to hide.

My retainers fell out of it; they were never found.

After that, I abandoned the purse as I cried.

My third was colored a milk chocolate brown; it zipped up thankfully.

Wide-eyed I had received it at my birthday party.

My cousin Jae gave it to me; after years it had fallen apart.

Alongside my relationship with her, now it resides in a corner of my dorm.

My fourth purse was pink and white; my dad bought it for me.

It closes with the flip of a scuffed golden latch.

A plum-purple scarf is tied to it.

That is my favorite of the purses.

My fifth and final purse is bright pink with a floral print.

Snow white and apple red; the flowers pop against the fabric yet match at the same time.

It closes with the click of a latch.

My grandma bought it for me, she wants the purse now.

She will not get it, not on my watch.