her gloves

you know these
things about her,
before you know
who she is.
she will leave
her gloves on
your table, like
unspoken words.
she will sigh
like a wind
being cupped
in the arms
of summer trees,
she will assume
it's love, and
be disappointed
and bitter, when
once again it's
just a season,
she will
come, she will
depart, she
will leave her
gloves on your
table and forget
about them,
but you will not,
you will place
them in a box
with the others.