This battered old brown suitcase came from my Mum’s house.
The faint monogram are not initials I recognise.
My Grandad was a dustman. He died before I was born.
My Mum was often the drop off point for the PTA jumble sale.
It is likely this case came into my family after being cast out elsewhere.
I wonder about the owner of the monogrammed case.
Who they were and where they journeyed with this tiny case.
It now lives in my studio filled with books and pens.
My portable nest of creative comfort.