Socks

Not the conventional topic for a poem I mean, it’s difficult to engage socks Emotionally; they provide no loam In which to seed a rhyming song that shocks Or indeed wrings a tear, even remorse, Even remembering drawers sorted through After that death, discarded in discourse Or gleaned in thrift, unworn, brand new, But somehow not part of my own living, Put aside to give away, out of sight, And you would suppose that in the giving, Peace could descend in that unwelcome night. Sorrow abrasive to a threadbare soul, May ease in time; it does not wear a hole.