Poem of the Day

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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

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