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Unmatched

With lots of socks that look alike, It’s hard to make a pair. To try to find the perfect match, You need some time to spare. My husband solved the problem, though, His gym socks the intention, Which proves that yes, necessity’s The mother of invention. On every sock, he made a mark – First A, then B, then C; The mate received a matching letter, Alphabetically. A Sharpie was his tool of choice To keep the letters bright In contrast to his many socks In varied shades of white. So from the dryer, out they pour, Each waiting for its mate, Which now is found so easily, No question or debate. It’s quite a shrewd solution Though I think it’s also plain That a plan like this would never come From any woman’s brain!

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014




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Date: 4/15/2014 8:56:00 PM
OMG! That's a really a really creative poem... I really enjoyed its humour :)
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Date: 1/30/2014 9:19:00 PM
now all you have to do is darn up those darn holes. sooner or later the heals wear out and your walking on your soles. peace. :)
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Date: 1/29/2014 5:35:00 PM
Oh...oh...oh....What a true story this is......I'm SO tired of finding the other pair. Brilliant. No woman would have thought of this......tis true. Love ya!!
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Date: 1/28/2014 7:58:00 PM
Your husband has devised a good system. Nice way to describe it in a poem.
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Book: Shattered Sighs