The Way of the Blossoms

I made my hiding place

                                                a large cardboard box

                                                at the back of the garage.

                                      There I lived my secret life.

                                      Days were longer then,

                                               so were the years that I dreamed

                                               of being a thousand different places,

                                               other than Wichita.

                                      It rained,

                                               hailed, and

                                               snowed

                                               year after year.

                                      And all too often my creative thoughts,

                                               dreams and imagination

                                               followed the way of the blossoms

                                               in the bedroom window box.

Lonely Socks

They start off paired up, but some take off and end up in a clothes hamper, while their mates descend to a lower life under cover or under the bed. From then on, there is a risk of becoming a lonely sock.

Therefore, I have decided to start a lonely socks club. You can check out other lonely socks on our website, www.pair-up.com, to see who you might match with. There are many lonely socks wondering where their mate is.

Fortunately, a few mates have returned after they’ve gone through some treatment trying to get the stains and dirt out of them. But many never do return and wind up just being someone’s sock monkey, dust rag, or bean bag. Although they are being used, the more fortunate ones, who never return to their mates, may wind up being used to store holiday decorations, or precious trinkets in a drawer.

Unfortunately there have been several suicides in Sockittume, one of the most recent being the one at the Come Clean Laundromat last night. The owner of the Laundromat found him in a washing machine and told the police that the sock had said he wanted to wash up after being used as a hand puppet for days and then left for the dog to play with. “He was very smelly,” said the owner.

Investigators found a note the sock had left. It read, “This may knock your socks off, but by the time you read this I’ll be gone. I was happy just being a regular sock and never wanted to be a celebrity. My twin didn’t even recognize me after the makeover. Socks belong on feet, not on hands.”

The coroner reported there were large doses of bleach found in the washer and realized someone had put a sock in it, which most likely tore the sock apart.

Perhaps those few holed socks who have had their pictures posted on the website for some time and have agreed to allow themselves to be made into puppets, because they feel they may have lost their socks appeal, may now want to reconsider in view of this story.

The writer of this story would like to give his sympathies to the family who lost the sock. I am also accepting donations of socks for the family, preferably size 9 1/2 and made by Nike.