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)
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?
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?
That label is surreal. Lost socks are a given in life. Who knew laundry was so insightful.
Thank you. Laundry philosophy is a field of unblazed (new word) trails. If I had a nickel for every missing sock, I’d have a lot of nickels. I often wonder where do they go.
Lol. You’re welcome.
What a cute poem. Ditto regarding Colin Firth…….
Sigh…
This is great.
Thanks!
Oh Colin, and here’s to lost socks, but that label is priceless.