Pairs of socks


In my sock drawer there are all kinds of socks,
ones with stripes and ones with dots.
All of them come in pairs and stay together,
even if one's dirty and stinks like snots.
As I look through this drawer,
Satisfaction comes which notes that I’m done.
Until I see a something that leaves me a shock,
a sock that is only one.

Without hesitation I try on the sock,
then try another from a different pair.
I break apart the lovely duo that it once was,
and paired it with the lone one so it would be fair.
The sock pouts with disbelief at this disarray,
and yearns for another pair to see if it would bond.
Without a thought I try more on,
Until I finally found one that belonged.
But now my drawers a mess,
which makes the satisfaction of this reunion less.

Maybe I should’ve left the lone sock as it was,
it wouldn't have caused all the pairs to be mismatched.
Maybe I should be proud of this,
of this one pair that was able to match
I can’t come to a conclusion if what I did was right or wrong,
but what I did is done.
In the end I know one statement I wished was fulfilled,
the wish of all pairs to be able to be one.

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