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.
Comments