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LUNCHBOX
I sit on the shelf
waiting my turn
listening to the murmur of voices
shuffling of papers
safe-keeping my treasures
a sandwich
peanut butter perhaps (with jelly)
carrot sticks
a banana or pear
a sweet treat
until I'm scooped up by my handle
rushed to a table
and, with the flip of a clasp,
smiled at.
In truth, I've been dropped
stepped on
spilled.
Any old sack can carry a treasure
but I am
lunch box.
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