The odd Sock

I used to have a friend and we went everywhere together

But now I sit, crumpled and alone.

Selected for a minute, my spirits rise

But are dashed, abandoned forever.

But I’m still in the wash, still in the frame

And with old friends all in pairs

I am tossed inside the drum

And breathless we await the waiting game.

Two tablets to whiten, some gloopy smell like the breeze,

A powder that stops limescale damage.

The knob whirrs around and at forty degrees

We wait for the drum to reprise.

First we go this way, then we go that,

I jostle for position, a lone water rat.

Would that the magic formula could wash out my sins

Or the particles whiten lies I have told.

I pray the bleach will absolve me

And return me to a time when we were twins.

I have lost my friend and the others take pity

As the suds renew and restore.

The waters purify and the automatic soap dispenses

Blessings from the cleansing committee.

Once I was half of a couple and together we laughed

Now I am alone with no sole,

Lonely with no absolved soul

I jostle for position, solitary on my raft.

First I go this way, then I go another.

Who will care for me, now there is no significant other?

By Linda Prince 

© Chris