Saturday, 16 May 2009

Socks

For no better reason than that I feel like it, a random poem about mornings after, nights before... and socks.

“I’d know him by his socks” she said

The night spent, she thought, in his bed

Or maybe on his bedroom floor

Her flashes of the night before

Without a face, that door still locked

Instead, they show just stripy socks

Worn with grace and great élan

Set just below her perfect man

Who brought her home and left her there

With visions of his underwear

Sometime after they were through

With what the sockless sometimes do

But left without a certain way

To see his socks again some day

No number or e-mail address

Just memories of stripiness


2 comments:

Merrilee said...

Lol! Very amusing :)

April Boland said...

Very cute and very visual! For some reason I saw the socks as grey with green stripes...