Listening to every heart
The White Glove
Cannot you see it? That perfect, stark white glove
she is drawing it on just now, slowly,
with intent, onto her left hand.
Her right hand's fingers caress lightly her left wrist,
slightly tugging, gently easing the
glove up her silken arm,
then smoothing the gossamer-like cotton of the glove,
with her right hand, oblivious, 'tho it is gloveless.
And the art of her is just like a portrait unfinished.
31 August, 1999
Look, then, into thine heart, and write ~~~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow