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The tale of the whistling sock
Asleep in the bottom drawer
A place I now call home
I hear a voice call my name
"Sockie, Sockie" where are you
I am here
I seem to yell
But my voice was muffled
By rolls of clothing hell
I listen to the frustrated grunts and growls
Doors slam
The smell of brewed coffee
I guess it's early in the morning
I try to stand
Alas,held by the cuffs of clothes
A wretched ordeal
That I could not foresee
Till I had an idea
So mad it's genius
I used my little lips
And I began to whistle
Till at last it got to you
And then you brought me out
I'm here to rescue you Sockie
Was the last word you said
Copyright ©
Raki Lyon
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