Vintage
The Handbag

I found it unlabeled,
Soft-worn. Oil-folded
by hands I’ll never meet,
already lived-in.
Previous marriages
settled in the leather.
Children we each carry,
tucked in the lining.
The clasp clicks:
a sound like certainty.
My hand finds silk,
cool, slick,
too precious to let
anything catch.
What I’d place here,
if I dared—
the hope of every tomorrow
I’ve stopped imagining.
My fingers curl around air.
The weight of who we are,
and all we’ve yet to become.
The clasp stays open.
~Kayla
©Just Kayla, 2025


Music to my ears! Vintage = Classic!
Beautiful! The clasp stays open…❤️