Seeing my wallet in my purse
With the snaps gone and even worse,
I can’t keep those pictures in place.
You can’t even see my kid’s face.
Why do I keep on using this wallet?
It’s overworn, overused. I should toss it.
Whatever the reason, it’s tattered and worn
It won’t get fixed and the leather’s torn.
One day I’m sure it’ll be replaced
with fasteners, shiny plastic and lace.
For now, it will just stay in my purse,
Overworn and abused, someone call the hearse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem