For this, I envy you.
How your world, your phone,
money, keys and life fits into
such a tiny handbag. You,
like what you hold in your
hand, are so very shiny.
Somewhat like a maternal
instinct. You hold it right.
Never spill a drink on it. Find
everything in one go. Unlike
me. My bag is a blackhole.
Such elegance. So annoying.
It nestles close to you. Right
under your lovely armpit.
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