By Annette Marie Hyder
I am an envelope of cloth, of air, of time
and on one special day, I’m plumped full of rhyme.
I’m empty sometimes, sometimes bulging.
Long ago I hung from woman’s waist defining
it and anchoring myself, both while indulging
in showing myself — but I can hide too.
I’m a secret if I’m on the inside of what you have on.
I’m a nest for hands and change (no one’ll have a clue).
Cut in or sewn on, I’m the place where you are bound
to find all sorts of misplaced things in my lair of lost and found.
What am I?
Take a guess!
(NaPoWriMo day 24, poem 25)