Illustrated PoetrySocks
Two mismatched socks do I wear
down upon my feet;
one is old and loose and worn,
the other snug and neat.
And as I skip and walk and stroll
all about the town,
not a worry's paid the younger sock;
its mate keeps falling down!
Perhaps I should too mention
that the elder sock,
despite its threadbare, stubborn nature,
sure has seen a lot.
And though its younger counterpart,
trustworthy and fair,
may not have seen as many steps,
together they're a pair.
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