THE DAY MY HANDBAG SPOKE

THE DAY MY HANDBAG SPOKE

I heard a little voice.
Come from my handbag zip.
I stopped right where I stood.
And nearly lost my grip.

I put it on the chair.
And listened for a while.
It made another noise.
That wiped away my smile.

I thought a mouse was in.
Or something strange and small.
I grabbed a wooden spoon.
And stood against the wall.

The handbag spoke again.
I nearly left the room.
I held the spoon up high.
Prepared to meet my doom.

I slowly pulled the zip.
Then jumped a foot away.
A voice came from inside.
And had a lot to say.

I tipped it upside down.
My junk fell on the floor.
Then something shouted, hello.
I nearly hit the door.

My phone was underneath.
A scarf and chewing gum.
I had somehow called someone.
By sitting on my bum.

I picked my handbag up.
And laughed until I cried.
No monsters lived in there.
Just rubbish packed inside.