14/02/10

Upon the seat, beside the window, it lay.
Frowning, as the world rushed by technicolour.
A streaked watercolour.
A single glove,
Divorced or widowed,
Its partner gone, its lover left.
Brown leather, lonely.
Outside the world cried for it.
Outside the wind whispered for it.
And the leaves swirled a search party.
No missing posters,
No milk carton calamity.
But the owner noticed and cursed colourful.
And the sky swirled grey.
And the glove lay upon the seat beside the window.

PhotoCredit