An Ode to the Travelling Duffel Bag

 

You were not mine to have.

But you did not whine to be with me.

You were not liked and called ugly by many.

But you were a happy sight for me. 

You were always ready and on time.

Even though we were often early.

You got stuffed. You got crushed.

Yet you signified freedom to me.

You were heavy for me, my shoulders ached.

But you knew we were in this together.

You accompanied me on my solitary journeys.

Even though not a word was uttered from you to me.

You played my comfy pillow on the bus.

And a blanket in freezing air-conditioning for me.

You got wet in the rain and mucky from the mud.

But kept all my things spotless clean for me.

You got sewn and zipped back up in repair.

And still you never gave up on me.

You haven't been carried in a while by me.

Dusty, in my cupboard you lie patiently.

You are always ready to be picked up.

For that, I owe you so very much.