Yes,
this was my evening. Is it a wonder that I ever fold laundry?
Newborn Heart Sock
The
family’s laundry doesn’t usually startle
My
memories or thoughts that seem gone
An
occasional T-shirt won as a participation prize
Or
marking a remarkable vacation spot
But
I don’t linger over these things a lot,
As
when I do fold our outer wares,
I
am often unaware of what it is in my hands
The
shape and size slip by into the piles
On
automatic pilot
Not
bothering to land
Tonight
I was jolted
By
a teeny tiny sock
Such
a shock
Because
at this moment
There
hasn’t been a baby
In
our house for a decade
Yet
somehow this made
It’s
way into a recent basket
Sitting
there waiting for discovery
By
me
I
held this tiny stripped time capsule
Feeling
softened by its presence
Wondering
why now it appeared
Where
had it been?
I
didn’t want to know
Being
it was a sock,
It
probably escaped
From
the distant desert isle
Where
lost socks are marooned
It
dug its way through the earth
With
a spoon
To
me
And
it was looking to be useful
Remembering
our family
That
we had a baby’s foot
To
keep warm, out of soot
And
grime or mud
It
didn’t know that
The
baby grew and grew
Until
he flew into existence
Circumstances
have favored
His
getting smarter by day
And
taller by night
Until
no baby here
For
me
A
tiny, single tear
Slid
down my face
As
I didn’t want to erase
This
sock’s purpose
To
put forward
What
was not
What
is
What
was
And
where we are now?
Another
baby was thought
To
come
But
that was fraught
With
tangles a plenty
And
those children
Are
on their own lost isle
All
the while,
Never
far from my heart
I
smoothed the sock
It
felt now like a rock
I
kissed it for visiting
And
put it in a give-away bin
So
it can find another family
And
I can give them
An
extra tiny sock
As
they are always getting lost
I
will give this heart sock
From
me
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