It is true. I can myself confirm the old saying regarding the inspiration to write ignited in those who avidly read. I myself have been bit with the very bug, been rushed along in the mighty gale, been burned by the fire of a good book. More on that later of course, but now for the flood of words that have recently originated in my mind, run down my arm, and hurried from my fingers. Yes, here is, yet again, a very random web of words intended to catch a smile. This time, it was Monday's laundry that was the source of inspiration.
A Poem of the Sole: A grave reflection upon the continual occurrence of retrieving one sock from the dryer instead of two
~*~*~*~
Of all the queries from ages past,
The answer I’d most like to know,
Regards the mystery of two halves;
The mystery concerning the two soles
By soles I mean the socks I wear.
Those fabricated tubes of cloth,
Whose loss leads often to despair
And stirs within me hopeless wroth.
Respecting the allusive pair
Universal understanding is abreast.
And brilliant minds from here and there
Have pondered questions such as this:
In what part of traversing do,
The pair of one, split into two?
Conspiracy. Can that be it?
The washer and dryer would be to blame.
But why only socks so they bandit
And never treat other articles in manners of the same?
If not conspiracy, then what?
Do quarrels break out between the two?
Do jealousies and harsh words cut
And severe the friendship once like glue.
Or can it be, like all bosom friends,
Their natural paths do part.
Such farewells do not ensure the end
of the bond ‘tween kindred hearts.
Some solutions I will never find,
Of this I am convinced.
Some golden threads ne’er will unwind
The way through the labyrinth.
Alas, the answer yet evades my mind.
The mystery lingers on.
And though it may be solved in time,
I thus must end my song.
~*~
Copyright August 9th 2008
