The Secret Life of Socks

The Secret Life of Socks

My husband is monogamous;
He thinks his socks are too.
He thinks they always mate for life
Like wolves or dolphins do.

Not matter where he leaves them,
In separate rooms, or states,
He thinks they somehow find the way
Back to their separate mates.

Because that's how he finds them,
Stacked neatly in his drawer,
Each duo paired in locked embrace
As lovers evermore.

The secret life of socks is
Beyond his one-track brain.
He doesn't know and couldn't guess,
Although the facts are plain.

In washer, dryer, laundry room,
On bed or bathroom floor,
They seem to have a single thought--
To make it out the door.

Their aim in life is but to roam,
Philander, and (to giggle?)
He'd never have a proper pair
Without my constant vigil.

Dilly  1995