Ode to My Handkerchief

I dropped you that first time
When I was younger and flirty
As I sashayed past
The cutest guy at cotillion.
He snatched you right up
Before you got dirty
And presented you back,
His smile worth a million.

I batted my lashes
As he bought lemonade;
In my white-gloved palm,
I held you discreetly.
I tried not to perspire
(It was even hot in the shade);
I was a proper young miss,
My words twanging sweetly.

At the wedding, I twisted you,
My nervous hands shaking;
My husband downed bourbon,
Then passed out on the floor.
I cried in your soft silk,
My lonely heart breaking,
But I lacked the willpower
To walk out of the door.

Now seven years later
You’re still perfectly pristine,
While I’ve fallen from grace
And am no longer a belle.
A couple capsules of arsenic–
Who knew I was this mean–
Oh, my beloved handkerchief,
We’re still together in my cell.

~*~
©️2023 Paula Light and Light Motifs II. No unauthorized use permitted.

Ode written for the Skeptic’s Kaddish W3 46.