Lost Sock Trail

T’was perhaps by dint of fate Or some demonic spell That I, a sock, was granted The gift of sniff-less smell I gaged and retched in darkness Of a foot’s pungent aroma Finally, I fled the scene Became a match-less roamer I hang about old laundramats With socks lost and unfound They share a single loneliness A fading hope of being found Not me, I shout, I shan’t return It’s the wanderer’s life I seek For I miss not the brogans And those feet that truly reek Yet, you may see me resting In the warmth of sunset’s fail Singing songs of corns and bunions As I walk that lost sock trail