The Night the Socks Left

I leave my socks beside the bed,

Two heroes, side by side.

They’ve worked all day, they’ve done their job,

They’ve earned a little pride.

When lights go out and dreams begin,

And floors forget my name,

The socks awake, stretch heel and toe,

And whisper something brave.

“We know the house, the secret paths,

The dust beneath the chair.

We’ve heard the nights are wider still

When humans aren’t aware.”

They march past books and sleepy doors,

Past crumbs from yesterday.

The left one swears he heard a call,

The right one says, “Okay.”

They don’t run fast, they don’t run far,

They don’t make any sound.

They slip between the seconds where

A sock won’t be found.

By morning when I wake again,

My feet are cold and bare.

The socks are gone, no trace at all,

Just off somewhere out there.

I check the room, I check again,

From finish back to start.

I know I put them right there,

I know this room by heart.

It’s not that they are lost, exactly,

Or stolen, swept away.

They simply are not where they were

At the end of yesterday.

Written: 2026