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The sock.
Tic tock.
Yet it ain’t a clock.
Pinched to a wire.
Alone in the fire.
Tic tock, tic tock.
A sock with no flock.
Sock wiggled the world.
Was not looking for a buyer.
As the church bell rang thrice.
Sock came to see.
That the air one feels.
Such a pleasure, click of heels.
The Earth was his friend.
Breath and a wiggle.
Sock transcended higher.

Sock, photo and poem – Helen Rebecca Hart.

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