Lost Gloves

Winter officially hasn’t started
but I’ve seen about a dozen lost gloves.

There’s one on the sidewalk outside my house.
There’s another on the curb of the street
that curves past the front of the library.
There’s one by the grocery store. I’ve seen more.

My first thought’s always, “That’s sad. Poor lost glove.
All crumpled up now and all alone now.”

But also I remind myself lost gloves
might be happy to have gotten away
from cold hands that responded to the warmth
the gloves provided by being thoughtless
and careless, losing the gloves that warmed them.

Too bad lost gloves do not write poetry
or keep blogs. I bet lost gloves have stories
and I bet the stories lost gloves could tell
would have weird twists we never expected.