Grey threads

I forgot all about my socks
the greying worn-out ones
threadless and bare and scuffed at the soles
My feet are naked and inconsolable at their tremendous loss.

The socks went on a roadtrip though
Right through double-locked suitcases and
endless goodbyes that didnt say hello frequently enough
They seem to be wiser, for all I taught them.

That seems to happen more and more, the
more I crumple up words and forget to write
because the papers too new,
the feelings too old,
the everything's just not enough to become a
something that I'll keep with me long enough to love.

Still.My feet are inconsolable at their loss.
I've reassured them with promises of blankets.
Not so snug as socks but
comfortable enough to
keep aside on those hot
long-winding summer nights.