The Great Sock Hunter
Some cats like catnip,
some like toys with bells,
but I like socks
and their funny smells.
I catch socks from the laundry,
or from under the bed,
from the neighbour’s sock drawer,
or from the line instead.
I stalk, then pounce –
the shocked sock has a fright
and doesn’t put up
much of a fight.
I carry my prize
back to my lair,
behind the curtain,
there’s a mountain back there.
Then I hear my mistress,
“Have you seen my socks, John?
That’s the fifth pair this week.
Where have they all gone?”
“I don’t know dear.
Socks can’t just disappear.
We’ll have a good look,
they must be ‘round here.”
But I’ve outsmarted them all,
I think you’ll agree,
for I am the Great Sock Hunter.
No sock is safe from me!
© Vanessa Proctor