Went to London, had some fun, all good then worse, a lady stole my purse
A phone is a phone
money is money
passports can be made anew, but
two pens and a pillbox
are not two pens and a pillbox.
Pen, smooth to the touch, perfect little case,
is my husband's time and devotion.
Pen, coral-colored Parker,
is my son's encouragement and love.
Pillbox, small beloved wooden square,
"friendship" carved there,
is the harmony between souls.
Dear pens and pillbox, may you live on in this odd ode.
Dear readers, don't hook your purse on a seat back, even in a vegetarian restaurant.
Dear thoughtless thief, the phone has a big, fat crack on the back, so there, take that. And, I hope you were scared by the disdainful stare from the nude old artist on my new postcards. Besides, burglar, I went back to the Barbican and got replacements. So, Up your nose with a rubber hose, ridiculous robber!
PS My favorite shopping bag with the bees from my buddy Becky was also in my purse. Like the pens and pillbox, it was more than just a bag!
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