I’ve written this piece to be included in a charity book, for the “Black Dog Institute” here in Australia. The book is to be called, “My Lost Sock”, and every story in the charity book will be an anecdote about “My Lost Sock”. The Black Dog Institute, is a not-for-profit facility for diagnosis, treatment and prevention of Depression and Bipolar disorder.
My Lost Sock
A Christmas Story
I’m a hand knitted woollen sock.
Here’s my story from year dot.
In the beginning.
I started as a piece of spinning.
The wool off a sheep’s back.
An odd colour of brownie-black.
Being spun into dark twines.
On a wheel from olden times.
Craftily hand knitted.
Lovingly, soon to be gifted.
There were two of us.
We were like knitted twins.
Righty and Lefty.
And of course I’m Righty.
Our gorgeous red-haired spinner and knitter.
Had dutifully finished.
Cheerfully folded and wrapped.
In colourful paper and flower strap.
A fabulous Christmas present.
For her husband’s aged parent.
Soon it was Christmas day.
Everyone’s jolly, merry and gay.
Drinking red wine, local Cabernet.
Eating fish, caught in a nearby bay.
And presents opening time began.
Families smiled and sang.
We’re sitting on Pop’s lap.
Gently and slowly unwrapped.
Pop proudly exclaims and holds us up.
“Look here, see what I’ve got”.
Suddenly Pop throws Lefty into the corner.
And I’m left dangling like “Little Jack Horner”
There’s much laughter and jokes.
Kids come over and give me a friendly poke.
Poor discarded Lefty, on the floor with no folks.
While I’m up here being kindly stroked.
There’s more giggles, they’re all staring at me.
Pop’s grinning from ear to ear.
Wriggling in his wheelchair to loud cheers.
Oh, my discovery, Pop’s left leg’s missing below his knee.