Old Purse

I am woman
I carry pain and joy
In this same old purse
Black handles, stiff zippers
Full of compartments and hiding corners
Recovering 10 cents and torn up dollars
It was light at first
The longer I carried it,
The heavier it got
But I manage just fine
Peeling and wear & tear marks
Stretched out with time
Responsibilities, fade, possibilities
Enduring still
And now, both arms are strong
From switching and strap-pulling
And I just packed in some love
I am woman
Still growing, still learning, human
I need a new purse though.
A red one, with an extra handle.