Searching

If the wine one evening snips
The bonds that tie my tongue
I may be honest about a few things.
Like, when I find the time
To visit my mum back home
I always steel away to
Search the cupboards and draws
For something special I'm certain
To have left, at one time or another,
In an unmarked box, or wrapped
Neatly in a square of newspaper.
If it's not under the stairs or up
In the loft, I always check
Down the back of the sofa-
Although I know it's warmer
Than a coin and heavy, like a gift.
I haven't found it yet.
One or two places I always leave unchecked.

While I'm about it I'll say this:
If I ignore you sometimes
Don't slam the door
Or threaten me with scissors.
Leave me for a while.
Play dead in our bed.
Wait for my cool, expectant
Fingers to circle your neck,
Run down your back.