|
SocksJanuary 6th, 2004Two mismatched socks do I wear down upon my feet; one is old and loose and worn, the other snug and neat. And as I skip and walk and stroll all about the town, not a worry's paid the younger sock; its mate keeps falling down! Perhaps I should too mention that the elder sock, despite its threadbare, stubborn nature, sure has seen a lot. And though its younger counterpart, trustworthy and fair, may not have seen as many steps, together they're a pair. |
|
Poetry