Few things are sadder than a single glove
lost by a stranger who was once right here,
though surely not a stranger lost to love.
Sometimes you see them on a rail, that’s queer,
left there for their reciprocating pair.
Few things are sadder than a single glove
lost by a stranger who was once right here,
though surely not a stranger lost to love.
Sometimes you see them on a rail, that’s queer,
left there for their reciprocating pair.