Despite springtime’s associations of life, hope and rebirth, it’s a sad time of year for gloves: with Winter behind us, many are left abandoned in the street, often separated from their loved ones and unable to find their way home.
Some try to creep into doorways for shelter.
Others perch on window sills, wistfully watching their more fortunate relatives. While we know they will never again be allowed to cross into indoor warmth and comfort, it seems unlikely that they realise they will soon be chased away.
A very few are lucky enough to remain with their partners and attempt to set up home together in unnatural habitats.
Yet others gather twigs and debris and attempt to build nests.
Perhaps even mismatched couples can share such endeavours and find brief happiness together.
A few let themselves go completely, adapting so well to their new environment that they blend in almost unnoticed.
Others give up all hope and hang themselves on park railings or drown themselves in puddles.
Spare a thought for these poor creatures and do not reject them when they stretch out their hands to you for help.
5 thoughts on “glove story”
So sad. I can’t believe I almost feel bad for the gloves. :(
They are reaching out to you…
pointing at you…
all they ask is a helping hand…
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A close relative of the glove is the sock. Occasionally they interbreed…
Although socks may be abandoned come the summer, they aren’t so often abandoned al fresco. They may well be set to make communal nests and unholy alliances, but they mainly do so in the privacy of our own homes, in drawers and at the bottoms of wardrobes.