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miniature glove

Where do all the lost gloves go?

The ones left behind by careless owners

The ones that slide from your lap as you stand up to catch the bus

The glove you were sure you had just a second ago

But now has disappeared into thin air

Left trailing behind on the edge of a puddle

Trampled by the evening’s rush hour

Forgotten on the roof of a cab

Holding on for dear life to the wheels of an anxious weekend trolley

Stolen by a gust of wind at the seaside

All these unwanted shadows of limbs are collected by wandering ghosts and stored away

In the lost and found room at the museum

Placed in miniature boxes

A card is filled out stating the date and time of the glove collection

The owner section is always left unknown

And why are all these lost gloves so tiny you may be asking

Well they have been out in the rain so long that they have shrunk to a miniature copy of their previous selves unable to form the soft shapes of palm and fingers

unable stretch to their original stitches

Useless to human hands

The shrinking is a way of preserving as otherwise there would not be enough space in the lost and found room for all these spidery creatures

That each and every owner has already forgotten

That no one feels the need to go and collect

So the ghosts continue their bizarre collection adding boxes and boxes year by year

One day I’m sure of it they will need a solution for the abnormal growth of the glove collection

They will fill all the rooms of the museum and place the lost gloves underneath dusty glass

To be admired by all and tell the story of a forgotten owner

Who has now become a ghost and is out in the rain collecting gloves.

 

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