By Beverlyanna
Something caught my eye
Half buried in the snow
One glove… just one
For some strange reason I chose to pick it up
It seemed odd without its mate
Once warm… part of a perfect pair
It was now stiff… frozen solid
I wondered who it once belonged to
The owner would probably discard the other one
Into the trash heap
For what good would one remaining glove be?
Supposed to be two.
It seemed worthless now
Just one glove
Forgotten in the snow.
I picked in up.
And took it home .
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