THE SOCKS

In coils, like two cotton balls,
Coated with dust,
From under my bed
A brush stroke brought out the socks;

Forgotten,
Abandoned,
Consciously or unconsciously,
The socks you left behind;

Sad, blue,
Filled with bitterness,
The stare blank,
The socks,
I caught in my trembling hands,
Gave me a lump in my throat;

The socks recalled your being there,
Curled against me in my bed;
It was not a dream!

The socks made me a little scared,
Fear the idea that you will never come back,
To warm my bed,
To cover me with delicious cuddles;

The socks made me chuckle too,
Giggle at the idea that I had never seen such large feet,
Such big toes, teasingly tickling my feet;

The socks revived in me the great happiness,
These senseless moments,
When we both laughed like kids,
Happy to be together,
Pleased that we had met,
Pleased that we were in love!

– Anita Bacha –

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