Guess What?

I was looking through, everything I knew,

To find a few, of the forsaken ones.

Lost I say, lost again,

In the car, in the den.

Behind a book, under a bed,

Beside a pillow, under a head.

In a bag with mitts and bats,

Inside pant legs, Inside hats.

What a collection I have found,

Heavy and dark where dirt was ground.

Inside, outside, right side out,

Two of a kind, I have a doubt.

In a tub with soap and bleach,

All I could find, all I could reach.

In a basket clean and dry,

“Far too many”, I say with a sigh.

A match here, a match there,

Hers and his, matched with care.

But, alas, there are a few,

Gray with dirt, holes clean through.

Out they go, unceremoniously dumped,

Those that are left, in a basket lumped.

Hoping to find, the mate, the match,

Somewhere in the lumped up batch.

Egads, there are two score and ten,

I religiously go through them again.

The forsaken ones go in a box,

Yearning to go to the land of lost socks.

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By Cathie Tonkins, 6/27/1999