a dropped glove
on the path has been
stuck on
a branch.
its empty red
fingers
blow in a wave
as you pass by.
small rhinestones
are imbedded
where the hand
would be.
you wave back.
the bare trees may be
grey and cold,
like you,
this time of year.
but they're friendly.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment