Gloves?

Left lying empty in the streets, these gloves –
Limp as weak ladies wobbly legs, limper.

Some abandoned by babies, hurled from the
Pram in gurgling play, mum doesn’t notice
And they roll on, leaving the shed skin of
A tiny hand, lying limp and alone.

But longer, more sinuous quintets do
Leave their digital coats behind too
Suffering, no doubt, from cold and wet hands
In the winter months – but here’s the gist:
Gloves left behind in the gutter, everywhere
This time of year.

Quite a few gloves,
In one day, in one short walk I spotted more
Than three gloves left behind…

I saw a handful of gloves upon the road
And a glove full of hand at end of my arm.