Farewell Old Friend

I have been conducting a spring clean. (Okay, I know it's not spring!)Not the whole house, just my small computer room, but even so... And not one of those annual things, but a life one. And in the process I decided that I had to let a very dear and old friend go - my art folder, which has been with me since early student days. You see it above resting on the recycle bin before finally taking its leave of me. Below is a transcript of our final conversation.

Goodbye old friend, 'tis now
The parting of the ways.
For sixty years - and then a bit -
You've stored and carried
All that I could paint and draw.
You've kept them safe - a task, I fear,
Somewhat beyond you now in your torn form.

Sixteen whales' skeletons
I had in me one time,
My belly full of bone...
Okay! I jest, I jest! Photos they were -
Of sculptures you had made.

'tis true enough! Without complaint -
Though over-stuffed and put upon -
You've always turned up trumps.
Not even once you let a drawing slip.

Aye, overstuffed with nudes on odd
Occasions, I recall. The coloured model
That you liked so much... The massive thighs...
Do you remember her? A full load then
You gave me, no mistake. The drawings all
In conté crayon, brown and red - that's if
My memory serves me well. It should,
Seeing that it all came off, the crayon did, 
Inside my folds. You never did succeed
In shifting all the stain of it.

A thunder storm on one occasion
And I so unprepared. God, what
A night we had of it, you full of
Water colour drawings, fragile stuff,
Me having kittens that you'd let some water in.
As if... Pristine they were when we got home.

So why think that of me? "As if..." you say,
And you are right. Why think I might then,
Little Master Worry Guts?
Whenever did I fail you in that way?
Not even when you threw the water
From the brush wash jar across my flanks!
Remember that one, good and faithful friend?

Indeed I do, you bear the stain of it -
Like many others - to this day!
But you are right: the paintings went unscathed.

And once you left me
On the Epsom train. Much too concerned
With your new girl friend to remember me.
Then what was I to do? Some schoolboys
Found me, had a laugh at what they thought
The "naughty" drawings stashed inside.

I don't know what you did, my friend,
But what you did you did it well.
You were returned to me and all inside intact.
..............................................

Written for Mrs Upoles prompt Conversations at Theme Thursday