Looked briefly and passed by
until I decided to notice
Couldn’t leave it there
down in the mud
sad and degraded
far from it’s purpose
A tiny striped pink sock
The kind that are so soft
they draw your fingers
in to touch them
It had lost it way
been debauched
by life’s happenstance
Far from its expected fate
It made my heart sad
to see it so covered with
earth and grime
An unsuitable fate for
such a pretty little thing
But isn’t that us
brimming with
beliefs about life
when we are young
until we discover
the fantasies in the stories
Until we are soiled
and stained
and just a little
grubby from all those
little happenstances
that life doles out
I picked it up
and carried it home
washed it clean
and felt the softness
against my skin
And isn’t it us
that are uplifted
by the people who take us
to be their own
holding our softness
in their appreciative hands
giving us a home
stains and all.
