Why are there so many
Socks in the dish pan?
I think that the boys have lied.
Socks aren’t a weapon;
Aren’t doilies or dishes.
They shouldn’t be balled up or tied.
So boys’ve been scolded; I doubt they
Were list’ning.
Their feet will be cold, wait and see.
One day I’ll miss it:
The clothes never flying;
And dishes, instead of hos’ery.
©2019 Chelsea Owens
Chel Owens 
While I was reading your poem, I was listening to the song “If you Knew Suzie” and it synchronizes with your lyrics as well…
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Ooh! Gotta try that.
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Brought back memories of the balled up sock fights I used to have with the grandkids. You should try it sometimes. Though you do find socks in strange places a year later.
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😀 We’ve done those fights.
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Socks in the sink? Ewww.
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You’re telling me!
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I so get this.
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😀 You need a poem about The Capt.
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I love your humorous bent 🙂
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😀 Thanks, John. I’m definitely bent.
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