Usually, I'm left pushed towards the darkest dustier part of the house, amongst forgotten cloths and unattended boxes.
Fully packed with a history of adventures intact, zipped up with a elastic armband 'Please Contact'
Equipped with wheels to roll loyalty to my family, similar to the shoes and the owner, precise size,
Their congealer whilst they travel through the long windy nights,
Departed long before jet engines started, travelled in-between camels, stars and traffic lights,
Red sand to waves of colourful oceans into concrete confusing, brown to blue eyes studied my internal.
Razor sharp fingers continue to tickle me, centuries later the laughter still appear,
Thought it was a welcome gesture at the time.
Illiterate experts as life taught my owner body language and hard work ethics,
First handle witness to the many encounters the Seaman's faced, religion buried deep within their roots
Sandals to boots, ultimate sacrifice for their family, Heroes from both World Wars disguised in HIS-STORY paralyzed,
Proud to experience their offspring graduate to achieve, reinvented generation ready to teach,
Allergic to dust, I'm still in use, insecure as if I was out of fashion rolling through the terminal.
My owner kneeled down and said we going home, that's when we got highlighted, when a man pointed a finger towards us yelling out Terrorist.