A very slow Bag
for, some

Full of inability to yield

The slowness, liked

Can touch each pulsating nothingness in its coming

When partially swirled
It makes a tune

On its next mending
It again vows to be along..

Made where , it yet aches
When tones are no longer in longing…for companionship
This , bag

Sharing of plates, clothes, and the few thoughts with energy saved for it …each day
This bag has known their holding…….