A Lost Glove

A lost glove on the ground,
Its pair equally at a loss somewhere,
Just as a long-lived partner,
Separated by death, soldiers on.

When your soul’s companion departs,
How do you answer when no one replies;
How do you spend time without the other;
How do you accept?

Alone on a solitary journey
Not by choice, but here am I…
Just a lost glove on the ground,
A lost glove, nothing more.

All Poetry — Henry Barnard

My Story

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