Passport

a Poem by Raquel Swann

I’m stored in your drawer,

behind the used batteries,

loose change, and that

fancy blouse button

you’ve been meaning to sew.

But once or twice a year,

you’ll need me, frantically searching,

hoping I’m in same place.

Don’t worry, I haven’t moved.

Your international travel plans

will remain in tact.

Flying from country to country,

with me safely nestled by your side,

until you return home,

safe and sound

from the exploring,

and searching.

You’ll place me back in

that dreary drawer,

alone, waiting to be needed again.