The Secret World of Lost Socks

sock with hole in toeWhy does my “official” sock drawer have fewer socks than my “lost sock drawer”? Please someone, tell me why so many socks form pairs no more. Do you, too, have dozens of forlorn socks waiting for their mates? Is there a world out there, like the Island of Misfits, where lost socks wait?

Sometimes when I’m delinquent doing laundry, I find myself with no sock choices. I’ve been known to open the “lost sock drawer” in hopes I’ll hear the voices of some pairs of choices. After all, when I put my clean laundry away there’s always going to be at least one or two stray. With luck, there are some reunited pairs in there. A match of socks sure would be fair! Continue reading

Pluck me from this horrid place

key in door

Pluck me from this horrid place that I have lived in for so long. No, not from my literal home with you, my love, but from the jail of its inner rooms.

You know the jail itself is solely in my brain. Outside with you are miles of beauty. And yet you only ever look through my jail window at me, saturated by grey and black. Though I do see a glimpse of the outside beauty past your face, it seems surreal and distant. Your face looks sad and frustrated. I kiss it through the jail window, but we both want more. Continue reading