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Poetry Pleases: The Boxing Glove

Joyce Worsfold tells of a boxing glove that once danced lightly.

Discarded now
Bent, wrinkled and leathery
Body battered at the edges
Bits of you worn away by war and work,
Fatherhood, poverty and cigarettes.
As a youth you glowed like polished leather.
It fitted you then.
You danced lightly, sparring,
Muscles rippling, breathing regular.
Now you gasp for air
Your fight almost over.

**

To read more of Joyce's words please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=joyce+worsfold

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