Becoming

Brown leather briefcase
there you stand, barely.
Once you might have been the want
of a consumers desire; but today
you are the ashes left, of a forgotten fire.
Full of the mental excretions of your owner,
ready to burst them out
at the sight of an opening,
through which they can fit.
Brown leather briefcase,
you’re just like a cyst.
How tired you are, like a mirror you are;
of the aging man, who carries you to and from,
every step taking you closer
to the day you become undone.
Both of you infiltrate my nose
with your distinct scent.
One of leather,
the other of a day mal spent.
Both showing the misgivings of time
through the wrinkles that cover your bodies.
Bodies that once stood erect,
now are bent and contorted.
The image of youth, in you distorted.
How intriguing you are, like a mirror you are,
of nature’s vast beauties, the skies, the earth and sea.
Brown leather briefcase, you’re living proof,
of what time has in store for me.