The Suitcase That Packed Itself

The Suitcase That Packed Itself

She bought a strange invention,
A suitcase with a mind,
It promised it could pack your things,
And leave no sock behind.

She placed it by the bedroom door,
And told it what she’d need,
The suitcase opened up its mouth,
And started at great speed.

It packed her clothes and packed her shoes,
It packed her favourite hat,
Then somehow packed the kitchen spoon,
She wondered why it did that.

It packed three books she’d never read,
A photograph from years ago,
A tiny plant from windowsill,
And one old wooden bow.

She shouted, “What are you doing?”
The suitcase simply clicked,
Then packed a map she’d never seen,
And something rather cryptic.

The map led to a little town,
She’d never heard before,
And when she reached the place that day,
She found another door.

Inside was another suitcase,
Exactly like her own,
It opened up and whispered softly,
“You’ve finally come back home.”

She stared at it in disbelief,
Then laughed at what she’d found,
For sometimes strange inventions know,
Where we are really bound.