Here is a poem I wrote off the cuff yesterday morning. It's completely silly, but represented my time trying to figure out where all the socks went. We've been collecting strays for a while, and with everyone else out of the house, absolutely all of the laundry is done. So without further ado: Sock Monster.
Sock Monster
Sock Monster, Sock Monster! Oh where dost thou dwell?
Inside the dryer or beneath the stairwell?
And what is so tasty in my family's socks
that makes them delicious, like bagels with lox?
And why is it socks and not shirts or a hat?
(Oh - please eat the clothing that makes me look fat!)
But No! You refuse to be helpful and nice.
You only sneak socks, but not just once or twice.
Clothes are all clean - unmatched socks, I've a dozen -
Could they all be from guests? From friends? From cousins?!
Alas, I think not. It is YOU, sneaky beast.
Eating and gorging with no pause, no surcease.
One day, should we meet we'll have words and you'll flee.
...And then I'll find out who keeps moving my keys!
By Rich Bailey July 22, 2013
i enjoyed that!
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