Suitcases. Photo by Angela Lansbury.
Pack, pack. Pack, pack. Take out. Put back
Consult the list. Nothing must lack
The trouble's weight, like a coal sack
I'm worried it will break my back
I'll end up home helped by a crutch
The reason is I've packed too much.
I set off with all that I love
I lost a shoe but gained a glove
I seem to do this every time
Once claimed a case which wasn't mine
Next time I'll make sure that we share
Can't say, I've not a thing to wear
Once we travelled to the stations
Both on business, different nations
Both together to the airport
Gave matched luggage no second thought
Our only thought, 'Are we on time?'
We both made it, so all's fine.
Matching black suitcases - his switched with mine!
My bag will have pink blooms next time.
Because, you see, I can't wear a pair
Of Calvin Klein's men's underwear
And you can guess, he won't get far
Doing business in high heels and a lacy bra
Luckily he ran straight back
To give me what he knew I'd lack
It wasn't for a farewell kiss
But my suitcase I'd sorely miss.
-ends-
True story. My husband and I had matching suitcases, black, and both had departure times the same day. He picked up my suitcase. The way he tells the story, I picked up his.
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