IS IT YOU?:
I’m sure it’s you,
Leaving gloves all over town for me to find,
Did you want me to pick them up?
Just incase they weren’t for me,
And you came back looking,
Every glove is different,
But the same size,
Every one for the right hand,
Why the right?
Today’s was fine Black leather,
New and clean,
Resting on a window sill,
In a back street,
It was the same glove I found the week before