Lonely Sock

One white sock

Dirty and crumpled

Deserted under the slide

Half-full of sand

Not the first thing I see,

Here in the park

But it is the image

The picture in my head

As I drive away

I don’t think of

The dandelions and skunkweed

I don’t think of

The empty swings

I don’t think of

The deserted slides

Just that sock

And it seems to me

The sock is just like the playground

Once full

Now empty and forgotten