I circled about six times – mesmerized by the sign that said you needed socks.
Just passing through it said –
As I made my third pass I thought – well, aren’t we all.
You looked cold.
And younger than the wrinkles that engulfed your hands, neck and face.
I managed to make my way to the trunk – mom kept emergency socks there.
Handling them over – the reflector on your sign squinted my eye as a tear rolled from yours.
Careful, now. You’re libel to soak them socks.