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Poetry

Poetry: Gloves

When the tips of my fingers are blue and cold as ice
and no amount of hot air will suffice
I reach to right hand side of the car
and I find something quite bizzare
No gloves! I am afraid, and my fingers are still frozen yet
a glove compartment without its name, my hope is quite beset

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Below are the top articles rated and ranked by Helium members on:

Poetry: Gloves

  • 1 of 8

    by Victoria Dorain

    Would glove get blush When used against the moral, And squint its eyes, And shudder, and retreat? What nonsens... read more

  • 2 of 8

    by Anita Carter

    "Warm Gloves With Love" I found this woman's glove the other day. It was in the church. Where I had attended. ... read more

  • 3 of 8

    by Ashley Cline

    When the tips of my fingers are blue and cold as ice and no amount of hot air will suffice I reach to right hand si... read more

  • 4 of 8

    by Keith A Gilkey

    My gloves has a look of love It springs the art of your heart Oh, please believe what I can see For it is what te... read more

  • 5 of 8

    by April Self

    I threw my boxing gloves, tossed them on the ground. I was done fighting the feelings, I knew I had found. It w... read more

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Poetry: Gloves

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