Baggage

I started from my home

It was a Saturday evening

With no baggage.

Or so I thought.

But yes, I had a tiny sling bag

Mauve in colour

Hanging from one of my shoulders.

The only things it had space for

Were umbrella, wallet, a small water bottle

A house key, and some tissues

It could even hold a couple

Of hastily popped in lozenges

But I am sure, nothing more.

I know my bag

Doesn’t have eyes

And it can't see

The places it went with me

What I did

What was done to me

Why then when I hung the mauve strap

On my left shoulder

On the Sunday Morning

Did it feel

Like it was comforting me

Its softness gently stroking

My arms

Adding no more weight of its own.