I found a gift-tag tailed with silver string

dropped by our bed, ironically heart-shaped,

gold cardboard, unattached to anything,

attracting bits of fluff and Sellotape

and, placed between your hairbrush and your pills

with ribbon from the final gift you wrapped,

reflected in a mirror that revealed

With all my loveblue-biro’d on the back.


Your present, a belated jeu d’esprit,

this black and orange clip-on kipper tie,

its flourish of your old tomfoolery

intended to, with love, mock-horrify,

turned up too late to carry off the joke

but left me grateful, knowing how you’d tried,

still hearing laughter, stifled as I woke,

and truly, by the morning, horrified.