Odd Socks Options

[Guest_Nina_*]

Odd Socks (revised)

A pair of odd socks
tucked in a drawer:
one blue,
one black flecked with white;
long ill-matched;
hidden in darkness,
never proudly displayed.

I should separate them;
initiate search for their mates.
Yet something stops me -
fear of change?
loneliness worries?
habit?

I’ve grown used to them paired,
so they lie
folded together;
one blue,
one black  flecked with white;
growing old
trapped.


-------------------------------------
Odd Socks (original)

A pair of odd socks
tucked in a drawer:
one blue,
one black, flecked with white;
ill-matched for so long;
hiding in darkness
never proudly displayed.

I should separate them;
initiate search for their mate.
Yet something stops me -
fear for change?
thoughts of loneliness?
habit?

I’ve grown used to seeing them paired,
so there they lie
folded together;
one blue,
one black, flecked with white;
gathering dust,
growing old.

[Cybele]

Hello Nina,

Back again!

A very interesting metaphorical poem. Well thought out. Just a few suggestions to throw into the melting pot.

Odd Socks

A pair of odd socks
tucked in a drawer:
one blue,
one black, flecked with white;
ill-matched for so long;
hiding in darkness
never proudly displayed.

I should separate them;
initiate search for their mate.
Yet something stops me -
fear for change?
thoughts of loneliness?
habit?


Stanza 2 L2  initiate search for their mates. 'their' is plural so mates must also be plural.

L3/4/5 suggest change to

thoughts of loneliness?
habit?
indifference?

I’ve grown used to seeing them paired,
so there they lie
folded together;
one blue,
one black, flecked with white;
gathering dust,
growing old.

L1 omit 'seeing' extraneous observation.
L2 As Cathy says 'so they lie' , but this would make a great final line and statement Nina. Might I suggest restructuring..
L3 Omit this line you have already stated their proximity in L1
L6 Doubtful observation if they were in a drawer.

I know this is metaphor but a slightly better way to make the point might be

L6 wasted on each other,
   growing old,
   trapped


So suggested changes would read thus


A pair of odd socks
tucked in a drawer:
one blue,
one black, flecked with white;
ill-matched for so long;
hiding in darkness
never proudly displayed.

I should separate them;
initiate search for their mates
Yet something stops me –
thoughts of loneliness?
habit?
indifference?

I’ve grown used to seeing them paired,      
one blue,
one black, flecked with white                                          
wasted on each other
growing old,
trapped.  



So they lie.



I love the idea of a whole poem being a metaphor on life and think it is very clever. Really enjoyed the read Nina, thank you.