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Clogs

April 8, 2011
By Bobby Ganoosh SILVER, Denton, Texas
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Bobby Ganoosh SILVER, Denton, Texas
6 articles 0 photos 0 comments
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My feet are cold,
Frozen, numbing

They need socks
Warmth, heat

I have socks
Cozy, Comfy

But they are wooden
Not wooly, not cotton

I wear them all day
Morning, night

I love them
My wooden socks

Then one day a
Stranger, unknown

Whispers in my ear
Red, scared

Those are clogs

I look down in
Disbelief, distraught

They are clogs

I surrender life
Meaningless, forsaken

Without wooden socks I am
Non-unique, anyone, no one

© Katherine B., Hingham, MA

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