Glove Love
GLOVE LOVE
Their old teacher sitting waiting,
Twenty kids come in the classroom:
Most dash past to the computer or playtoys.
A skeletal six year old girl,
Neglected-looking, with glasses,
Throws arms around his neck
And slips on to his knee.
His big gnarled hands
Fold over her,
Fitting cosily as a glove
And her tiny bony hands
Rest easy on his knuckles.
No words are spoken;
But it’s a good morning.
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