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Click hereYou know about socks, right?
They, who hide
rolled up in separation,
hibernate in the back of drawers,
between cushions, in corners unknown,
or out in the open.
(Because you sure wouldn't expect them
to avoid your scouting eye I plain sight,
right?)
And then,
when every prospect
of successful matchmaking
is doomed, your cupid career
down the drain,
and in defeat you feed
the remaining wallflower
to good riddance,
you know what happens, right?
Shriveled little singles,
stares back at you, suddenly everywhere,
and sing in unison.
Where is my love? Where is my perfect match?
What have you done? Why have you abandoned me?
Not accusing,
(Socks are simple beings, they don’t understand
the concept of guilt, right?
Right?)
but with that silent question mark
bellowing loneliness from threads
to threshold of patience,
and you must once again
feed fabric to the flames,
just for the terrible symmetry
of it all.
Because you like symmetry,
right?
This is a fun poem and reminded me of a Jerry Seinfeld stand up act about socks... It made me smile!
~Honey
My socks and I adored the poem!
Shriveled little singles, - now why would that put my mind in the gutter? Good poem. Great imaginary! Love the humor! I needed to read something funny this morning! :-)
feeling of knowing I can pitch those lone sox...I have a drawer full...cleaning house ....sighs...blue