Blessed be the socks stuffed under
Beds, their holes remarking to bursts
Of activity, some rocketing through parks,
Over sidewalks, clinging inside boots
Of clay.
Monsters develop in green shades,
Night-cooled by cold moon’s light.
No one wonders where shoes have been,
It’s the cotton protectors smelling brightly
That gain publicity, left behind
To autograph seekers
Plunged in despair, each grasping
Finger searching for souls.
Chilly dew leaps on passersby, each
Fumbling foot retreating as full moon glows.
I remember my brothers socks "smelling brightly" as you have put it! This bit of whimsey and cuter then heck poetic word play was fun to read. Thanks for sharing! Sandi
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This book is a limited edition, and copies are hand numbered. It will NOT be available through Amazon or other distributors. You must purchase it directly from the author or from this site. It is hard-back (not the spiral bind seen
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