Lydia

When Lydia died

I asked for the ocean floor of her purse

The deepest worn layer littered with bits of sand and

I.   A pair of baby socks

II. Two crinkled dum dum wrappers 

    (raspberry and mystery???)

        Lydia, solve the mystery

        Was it underwhelming (butterscotch) or       

        As classically pleasing as sour apple? 

        Were you pirouetting in a hurry?

III. Seven patina incrusted pennies 

IV. Four elastic ties with honey hair coiled around the bands like tinsel mingled in Christmas pine

The trappings of her purse tell stories 

Trivial relics of her day 

Showcasing the barrage of errands, she ran and ran

A guessing game I can play

Coz now there’s nothing new and 

Lydia, this junk lives and breathes you 

So, I’ll keep it with mine

And pretend our talks 

Aren’t just me talking