A large cardboard box is reluctant to budge

till an ugly brown bag comes and gives it a nudge.

A pusher is passing in clear plastic wrap

and a grey bag’s just finished  its twentieth lap.

I’ve stood here for ages, I’m tired of the sound

of the carousel creaking around and around

There’s no sign at all of my shiny red bag

with its polka-dot ribbon and bright purple tag.

 

I watch as the cases are jostled and swayed,

as they each play their part in this clumsy parade.

They’re all in a higgledy-piggledy row

but there isn’t a bag with a polka-dot bow.

A flurry of limbs marks the start of a race

as the lucky ones capture their runaway case.

Around goes a rucksack, a crate and some skis

but, of course, I’ve no interest in any of these

I’m just on the lookout for one glossy bag

with a polka-dot ribbon and bright purple tag.

 

The crowd’s disappearing, they’re all moving on

and that rotating jumble of luggage has gone.

The carousel slows and I utter a shout

as the very last suitcase comes barreling out.

I cannot believe it, what wondrous relief

after sixty full minutes of nerve-wracking grief!

It’s finally made it, my special red bag

with its polka-dot ribbon and bright purple tag.

I cling to its handle, I cuddle my case

as the universe settles once more  into place.