Walked, eyes closed, dozing,
into early morning back yard.
Tardily swept away frozen segs of last night.
Picked up pegs, ran nose over dreg filled bottles
once holding fine wine.
Plates scraped off, remains of take away
battled slug trails solid silver lines.
Spotted snoring dinosaur sock,
plucked from muck and chucked,
as he'd fallen from the washing line.
Now he rested, in a mess,
through sheer good luck,
among plant pot slime.
Could i find his lime green friend?
Then i won't need to wonder where,
or borrow from another pair.
The sock dried out, shouted loud
from a corner of his woolly mouth.
“Leave me here, let me go, through
wind hail rain or snow. Then I'll roam
north to find my port, past cast off sofas
ally stones, alone among the filthy bins,
containers full of peoples sins,
I’ll always be your friend."
Dearest darling dinosaur sock,
as faithful as a dog,
lost on a curving country lane.
Secretly hoping he’ll never return,
never ever again.