Thursday, February 2, 2012

Old, Worn Socks

This is a wooden box,
For my old, worn socks,
These I no longer can wear,
Socks, old and worn,
Can be comforting and known,
But they can leave you cold and bare.

I could wear them for a while,
And they would make me smile,
And inspire a nice long think,
When when all thoughts are thunk,
I'll put them in the trunk,
And put on the bright new pink.

So my old, worn socks,
In your little wooden box,
I'll keep you all away,
And wear socks that are new,
And pink and red and blue,
A bright new colour everyday.

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