Killer Socks

My socks have been trying to kill me
Ever since I pulled them on
They try to make my feet slip out
From underneath
So that I must grab onto the nearest lifesaver
They must hate the kitchen floor
Or maybe just me

My socks have been trying to kill me
Ever since I pulled them on
They let me dance as if on ice
But then turn traitors and make me wobble precariously
I think they have a mind of their own these green sock of mine
They must hate the kitchen floor
Or maybe just me

My socks have been trying to kill me
Ever since I pulled them on
I must tread carefully or
Alas I will not be able to reach that bowl of strawberries in one piece
Maybe it’s my love for these red berries that make my socks rebel jealously
They just hate the kitchen floor
Or maybe it is all on me.
***

I did want to make this longer, but alas. you know me. I write hasty poems late at night. Goodnight.

~Tally

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6 thoughts on “Killer Socks

  1. Seriously? I haven’t actually laughed out loud at a poem in forever! (I’ve “loled” maybe, but not the real thing.) How did you do that?

    This poem is a charming surprise. Thanks!

    1. Ohh, thank you so much for your comment, I’m so glad you liked it enough to laugh! How did i do it? I was in a cheerful mood I guess…

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