One Sock, Two Socks

One sock, two socks

One sock, two socks, blue sock lying on the floor
across the carpet all the way to the door.
There's one with a big hole and one with a stripe
and most of them smell very stinky and ripe
One red sock is small and another quite big
The grey one seems to be smuggling a small twig
They hide under the chair, the couch, and the stairs
in all shades and patterns but never in pairs.
I feel like they taunt me and throw themselves down
How else can all these damn loose socks be around?
Maybe they run round the living room at night
an army of mismatched socks having a fight.
They spar with the dog and knock over his dish.
They play tag with the cat and dance for the fish.
Or maybe my dear son should put them away
Those darn dirty socks so they don't go astray.