Unclaimed Luggage

The bags sat unattended,

Overlooked by all who passed.

Waiting patiently for their owners,

Expecting them at last.

 

Minutes turned to hours,

Hours turned to days.

Yet they continued to wait patiently,

They were familiar with delays.

 

The dust began to build up,

The leather began to crack.

Yet the bags never waivered,

Their owners would be back.

 

The days turned into months,

The months turned into years.

And when the owners finally returned,

The bags had disappeared.

 

By John Dyer ©

Done