Handbags© Poem by Roann Mendriq

Behind the walls of frosted glass,
trapped within palladium rooms,
I stopped to hear the beckoning,
an impending sense of wicked doom.

I lifted up my eyes to search,
I turned to see what insight sought,
and knew that I should ponder first,
Should I or should I naught?

Temptation moved my willing feet,
Gumption lead the wayward way,
Till I was near enough to touch and feel,
My weak heart wept being lead astray.

My fingers with their own sweet mind,
caressed and stroked at will;
With owning pride, not shy or coy,
My head spun with the thrill.

Battling head and batting heart,
I fought to find a snag,
to dissuade my frivolous need,
to buy another handbag.
©