Socks

At the bottom of my body

There are two important things

I’m not talking ‘bout my bottom

(Though it is a thing of kings)

Today I must speak up for

A pair who get no heat

They get walked upon all day

They’re my two forgotten feet

Years of wearing shoes too small

Has curled them like bananas

And no provision’s made for them

When putting on pajamas

Now, you might say, this need not be

This tyranny can stop!

You just need upon each foot

A warm and woolly sock

The situation, I reply

Is clearly out of hand

There are no matching socks

Inside this cruel and bitter land

Yes, there’s gloves, two together

Two kneepads, two earphones

But just one solitary sock

Abandoned and alone

I tried to fit both feet inside

Which didn’t turn out well

I even thought of washing it

To get rid of the smell

But one is far better than none

So each foot takes it’s turn

To wear the single spotted sock

As sharing they both learn

So take care of your pair of socks

And never let them split

And each foot will be grateful

For that warm and comfy fit

© Ben Cotton

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