The Suitcase

“I took a trip and suitcase packed”
As chanted rhyme-game, memories wracked,
'Round those campfires long ago
Described outrageous things to stow.

But now it comes to life once more,
Two days and then it's out the door
To France – a boat-ride up the Rhone
Three days in Paris – then back home.

So what to take, all jest aside,
Of assets new and old for ride
Along from place of photo's birth
To Notre Dame of Hunchback's words.

But does it matter all that much –
We tourists gaze, and snap, make fuss
For locals who like revenue
But pay with lives upset by Stu.

We drag our ‘just in case’, and clothes
We guess will work, as clothing goes –
Protection from what can't be seen,
We follow where the rest have been.

We've gone before – those early days
With school all done and cheaper rates –
Backpack and tent, hostels, and pans,
With meals prepared right from the can.

Now it’s in hostels, guided tours
Our meals prepared through vineyards, moors
With castles, boats, and setting suns,
A time to rest, now battle’s done.

We've one last venture yet, we hunch
To draw from us new life – a bunch
Of tasks we cannot fathom here,
Nor what in suitcase pack that's dear.

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