Socks
I fell for their little scam
"4 pairs for £5" the label said
That drew me in -
Basic human, innocent error
With underwear, dressing gowns,
slippers and belts
They knew how to behave
Gently paired
Nicely pressed
Coolly hanging together
from the garments around
As I naively dropped them
into my basket
And headed towards the milk
I'll never know for sure
Whether they are bad by nature
Or driven that way by the first
Spin of the washing machine
Mad cycle is over
All pretence is gone
They are single, free and promiscuous
They'll choose their own partners
Ignoring colour, style, season
And shuffle and giggle in their drawer
While I'm busy doing other things
They bring me comfort
on my daily journeys
To let them have their own way
I'm happier for it
One less thing to worry about
I boldly play my part
By being a man who wears odd socks
David Lindsay
Tue 22nd Mar 2016 07:51
Thanks very much for the comments :)
I've another strange one written with the same title, which I might post on here sometime.
When it comes to poems about socks, I guess it's inevitable they'll be odd and come in pairs!