It catches my eye, a miniature hand of wool ,on the wall so carefully placed,

against the stone a brilliant white, soft and pure as the infant skin it graced.

It draws few casual glances and I know it was by a simple kindness found,

sad thoughts of tiny blue fingers prompted it’s rescue from frozen ground.

They’ll not notice it’s loss,it’s doubtful for a mitten they would pass again.

No it will soon be in the dirt once more, but a simple kindness will remain.

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