The Sock Monster, a limerick

For all of my years spent on earth

Over 50 for what it’s worth

I’ve come to accept

The dryer’s bold theft

(Paused here just to say Colin Firth)

Ahem, not sorry.

On laundry day I’m plagued with self doubt

Eight socks in, only seven come out

Today I was shocked

To find every sock

Is this a joke? What is it about?

Don’t know who to credit.

Said machine suffers asymmetry

It bangs and grumbles; so fidgety

I fear the dryer’s

Fee might be higher

A human sacrifice; does it want me?

8 thoughts on “The Sock Monster, a limerick

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