Where do all my Lost Socks go?
Someone, somewhere ought to know?
All my socks are HALF a pair –
The matching set are never there;
The missing ones are seldom here…
I take them off – they disappear!
Perhaps they leave in search of fun –
Or sail away to chase the Sun.
Maybe they vanish into Space,
Stolen by a Martian race?
Or could they all have magic habits…
They hide in hats like artful rabbits.
Or else – they leap the Gates of Time?
Or lurk in dust and fluff and grime
Beneath my bed (where no one dares
Disturb the spiders’ ancient lairs)?
I hope I’ll find my socks once more
All neatly darned inside my drawer?
I’ll try them on – I’ll wonder who
Has made my dearest wish come true?
Their joyful mates will hug them too –
When Red greets Red and Blue finds Blue!
But all the same – I’d love to know
WHERE
Do all my Lost Socks go?
Clare Bevan
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