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Clogs
April 8, 2011
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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