In a world of mismatched socks and drawers so wide,
A little boy wept for his favorite sock, a faithful guide.
He searched high and low, his heart heavy with despair,
Hoping his dear sock would magically appear somewhere.
"Where art thou, sock?" he cried, his voice a plea,
Lost in a sea of socks, his favorite, where could it be?
With each passing day, he held onto hope's tender thread,
Imagining his sock's journey, where it might have tread.
He pictured it dancing with dust bunnies under the bed,
Laughing with lost coins and toys, where memories are spread.
"Perhaps it's found a new home," the boy mused,
A cozy place where lost socks are amused.
"Are you warm and happy, my dear sock?" he whispered,
Hoping his words would reach, his heart's message delivered.
Though he missed its touch, his heart still held the key,
To a place where lost socks roam, wild and free.
In the end, he knew socks, like dreams, often stray,
But in his heart, his favorite sock would forever stay.
A testament to love that never truly departs,
He hoped it found a place where it danced with joyful hearts.