After The Dryer

single gray sport sock isolated on white background

After The Dryer by Lori Lipsky

Hidden, they slumber, in
my bottom drawer

They deserve less, maybe
dungeon or trench

Concealed on purpose to
postpone the fray

Contents spill over, all
singles, no mates

Trumpet cries for warfare
time for the fight

Long dreaded task to match
stray, wayward socks

They deserve less, maybe 
dungeon or trench


A syllabic poem. 
photo credit: iStockphoto/Maksym Bondarchuk

30 thoughts on “After The Dryer

  1. Heeheehe. So clever. Eventually, when I give up hope of matching the singles, I consign them to hard labor. They become dustcloths I can slip over my hand, or stain rags for my contractor husband.

    • Hard labor. Poor things, but the dust cloth thing is a great idea if the fabric and size are right. My girls have all these small, good-for-nothing-else socks.

  2. Oh, how I loved this poem! It’s a running joke in my family – my kids know I don’t match socks so…. they’ve been known to go out in public with two different socks. They’ve embraced this quirk o’mom and no longer complain!

    • You’ve got the right idea. It sounds like a less stressful way to go. With me, if they don’t match perfectly, they go in my drawer. I can’t quite release myself to wear mis-matched socks…yet. I should lighten up.
      I’m glad you liked the poem. Thanks for dropping by the Patio, Susan!

  3. A universal problem…! 🙂
    It’s not just the ‘northern hemisphereans who suffer this tragic fate…!
    We ‘downunder’ share a common fate that cannot be understood…
    Where those errant fellows get to, one can never tell…!

  4. Those single socks! I need to thrown a bunch of them out. I always postpone doing it in hopes of finding their mate, but it never seems to happen.

  5. This made me remember our recent trip to Florida to help our son and famlee move. I spent an entire afternoon matching up socks.

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