Like socks on the line.
They stand arm in arm.
Like socks in the wash,
you could always pair them off.
Even all mixed up you would
know which ones went together.
Did they start out identical
like new socks in the drawer,
and get more comfortable
as time wore on, giving them
the same amount of sagginess
as they rubbed along together?
Or did they gradually come
to resemble each other through
repeated washes. Each sock
taking on the shape of the foot,
a mirror of the other. Until you
know which ones go together.
But there’s always the odd sock
that doesn’t fit anywhere.
This sock sits waiting in the drawer.
For years you keep expecting
the other one to show up.
Sometimes, they never do.