Thank you, Anni. Maybe I'm a masochist because I do like making things difficult for myself. I considered rhyming each line as well, but that was a bridge too far. Perhaps next time...
If memory be the suitcase of the mind
in which we keep mementoes of the past,
just tokens of the times and things we find
to lay before our final steps at last,
our lives dragged to awaited destination,
the baggage of existence unpacked now
and laid upon the bed of rumination,
a last goodbye and final awkward bow.
Line count: 8
Rhymed abab
For Express It In Eight, 04.30.23
Prompt: Suitcase.
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