Make me, O socks, thy spinning wheel complete.
Thy cotton fabric softly embrace my toes.
Colorful patterns engulf eager feet.
Our intimate desires, only we shall know.
Without thee, my shoes wouldn't feel the same.
Without thee, I would walk all in shame.
Thee appears to me in purples, reds, blues, and greens.
How I look forward everyday to hold you!
I carefully stitch love into each of your seams.
My death would imminent t'were I sold you.
Looks of anger and envy we get from all.
You loved me through the years, whether feet big or small.
Enduring smelly sporting events,
Thy held sure and strong.
Thy stood with me in every bitter-sweet moment.
May thee threads hold together long.
Thine cushioning support touches my heart.
Of every day's attire, you're my favorite part.
(this is a play off of 'Huswifery' by poet Edward Taylor)
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Comments about this poem (Socks-ifery by Rebecca Paul )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
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