DISAPPEARING ACT

It never bothered me to much

            that I seem not to know

Just where it was the yellow

            went or where the swallows go.

The stains and birds alike return

            to their own native soil

And where it was that they

            sojurned does not cause

            mental toil

But the puzzle, I can’t

            solve and never cease to ponder

Where into the N. E. Heck!

            Do missing socks all wonder

For years I’ve asked this question

            and tried to ascertain

Why the left their dear mates

            side, the mystery racks my brain.

How ever did they take that step

            and where then did they flee?

I do know this, they left afoot

            Whereever they may be.

I’ve now aquired a dozen socks

            bereaved a year or more.

They have not seen a single

            soul; while mourning in my

            drawer.

To braid them all at rest, would

            true, some mercy show

Better yet to be a rug than just

            an empty toe.

But just when I would start

            to weave theres one sad fact

            I know.

The other heels would then return

            back to Capistrano.