The Glove on the Radiator

A tiny blue glove on the library rail;

Warming its fingers in a dusty trail;

Sun through the blinds made a sleepy gold beam;

Like a half-remembered unfinished dream;

The pages all whispered in paper-thin air;

While one little mitten pretended to care;

I saw the label with your name have sung;

A small brave stitch;

In a world grown cold;

And the radiator's high below;

Like it knew where lost things go;

Oh, warm little glove, where did you roam?

Lost in a hush between school and home;

Fingers of fabric alone but alive;

Keeping one small winter wish inside;

Oh, warm little glove, don't fade away;

Stay by the window and rest till day;

The librarian smiled with a whisper soft;

Said every lost thing gets found somehow;

But I watched for love where the heat crept slow;

Like a star in the snow that refused to go;

Outside, the buzzers called and the rain fell;

Down inside, the quiet wore a velvet crown;

I imagined your hand in a mittenless search;

Running through puddles round the church;

And the radiator hummed solo;

Like a lullaby only children know;

Oh, warm little glove, where did you roam?

Lost in the hush between school and home;

Think there's a fabric alone but alive;

Keep it warm, small winter wish inside;

Oh, warm little cloud, don't fade away;

Stay by the window and rest till then;

Maybe you slipped from the cold in love;

Maybe you fell where the tall books fall;

Maybe tomorrow a small cry will rise;

And brighten the dust in the old room's eyes;

Till then you glow in the silver heat;

A tiny red heartbeat;

Soft and sweet;

Oh, warm little glove, where did you roam?

Lost in the hush between still and home;

Fingers of fabric alone, quite alike;

Keeping one small window-ish inside;

Oh, warm little glove, don't feed away;

Stay by the window as till day;

When the raspbell rings and the shadows leave;

I hope your small owner comes back to retrieve;

That letter lost one from the library closed;

Oh, oh, oh;