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Poem

My husband has a bunch of socks
He wears to exercise,
They’re crew length, white and all the same,
The kind he always buys.

So how then does he pair them up
When laundry time rolls ‘round 
And from the dryer, there they sit
In one huge messy mound?

No problem, since he’s found a way
To make a perfect match.
Each pair receives a marking
So it stands out from the batch.

The letters of the alphabet,
With Sharpies, are employed
To help identify the mates.
(Compulsive, Dr. Freud?)

Two A’s, two B’s and on and on
Makes sorting such a breeze
Until the socks get old and interest
Fades by some degrees.

So that is why I noticed
On my husband’s foot a sock
With letter C although its mate
Has P writ large – a shock!

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