The Single Sock

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A modern fable in verse. Wise Monkey Wrought scroll N.014, "The Single Sock." The sock went into the wash a pair and came out a philosopher. Two socks went tumbling, warm and round, into the drum's revolving night. One came back out. One stayed unfound. The maths of laundry isn't right. The widower sock lay in the drawer among the matched and smug and whole. It had been half of something, more, and now stood single. End of role. The owner kept it, just in case the lost one wandered home one day. It waited with a patient face for someone gone the laundry way. The partner did not come around. The sock relaxed into its fate, took up with dusters, polished, found a calling cleaning silver plate. The lost sock is mourned. The kept one gets promoted.