One and one is two
Of that there is no doubt
We hold it to be true
Great minds have thunk it out
To me it’s always shocking
That my clothing is extracted
From machines that lose a stocking
They’ve not added, but subtracted
When one sock is thus mislaid
I tend to get morose
I feel I’ve been betrayed
While washing out my clothes
I like this Stan, I don't believe a poem's, a poem, without rhyme. I don't like free verse
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this. Good title, rhymes & effectiveness. Think about how that poor sock feels, to never again see it's sole mate. - chuck