your empty gloves


a life without you 
without knowing about you
anything
if not a little
merely a hint
of how you are
but absolutely
nothing
of how you are
with me
the adult me
the one with
stories
questions
obsessions
the me aware
of myself
who sometimes forgetsabout herself
the me seeking opinions,
yours.

a life without knowing
what
you think
how
you reflect
what
you would have asked
how
you would have answered





a life remembering
how you were
when I was nothing
but a little.

i miss
your opinions
even though
i've never
met them.

i stand here with your gloves
but what should I do
with them
empty of your hands
that know what
to touch
hold
point to.

i stand here with these huge gloves
empty
that you would have filled
with all the things 
you have seen
touched
and told me about.