Nov 28, 2009 22:36
A poem about socks
When a sock loses
its partner sock,
it must be devastated-
Alone and scared,
its sense of purpose
just as lost as its pair.
I considered sending it off
to a refugee sock camp,
where they might be reunited,
But for now
I’ve matched it up
with another misfit sock.
It’s a black sock-
and oh, how it hates
its brown and lime zig-zagged match.
Mismatched misfits . . .
But at least he’s not alone now.