My Toybox (Her)

 My pink toy box is just fantastic
The lid held on with pink elastic
It’s full of all my favourite things
Skipping ropes, a frog that sings
A ballerina duck, a tap dancing bear
A Barbie doll with almost no hair
A tennis ball, a witch’s hat
Some old boiled sweets, a Cheshire cat

My white tool box is really cool
Secret love notes from a boy at school
Pregnancy test kit just in case
A medal I won in a hurdles race
Pictures of that boy band hunk
A soft stuffed pig dressed as a punk
Some tissues to wipe the toilet pan
As result of my latest weight loss plan

My black toy box has a leather strap
Its full junk and women’s crap
A picture of a man who humped me
A wife’s phone number of the same man who dumped me
A dried up pen, a spare Tampax
A wine and tear stained filofax
A personal alarm a bottle of mace
A small sharp knife just in case

My velvet toy box is old and broken
A photo of him, a fairground token
Photos of the babies I carried
The address of the man I should have married
My divorce papers that hit me real hard
Stapled to my golden anniversary card
A film about a woman kept in a basement
A scheduling letter for a hip replacement

My last toy box, surrounded by candles
Is made of wood with four brass handles
In there I lie smartly dressed
My mother would be so impressed
Of all this is my favourite box
A journey’s end where no one mocks
Bereft of any life left to invest
I look forward to some fucking rest