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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.
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