We use them everyday,
especially in cold times,
companions in every way,
and yet, not too much rhymes.

In order to appreciate,
to be humble for simple things,
this poem, to socks I dedicate,
monocolour, stripes or rings.

From pure cotton, thick or thin,
they absorb our sweat,
or made from silk like a second skin,
adorable for dance and ballet,

I prefer them in black and white,
or with cute figures decorated,
from the practical site,
just two different types are faster sorted.

A mysterious secret they hide,
whenever you wash your favorite pair,
after the washing machine ride
one is vanished like thin air

I think of it of a sort of tribute,
to a friendly protector
probably something cute,
or a serious sock inspector.

Socks are powerful tokens anyway,
where would santa put his presents,
new ones keep the Jul Cat away,
where would I give my spare cents.

A sock as a gift, for an house elf,
freedom from slavery,
so keep your spare socks in a shelf,
for some ritual they might be the key.

May your socks keep you save,
warm and free from disease,
as trinket for a protector brave,
or as simple sweat release.