this small mauveish glove discarded among twigs and bark
at the entrance to the park,
it's a sad thing and
a heart string
twinges, twangs and
some little girl's fingers
are frosty nipped
this crisp morning:
"that's it,
i'm not buying you another pair, you
keep losing them, it's
a waste of money,
i'm not made of money, am i?
i don't care
if your hands are cold, you
have to learn."
not the first time that unhappy discarded objects have shown up hereabouts. we've had:
... and many more... these gloomy things are at the heart of the aesthetic here.
a kindred spirit, then, is the excellently lachrymose Sad Stuff on the Street - go there and submit yours
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