Stream of Consciousness
Socks, Suds, & the Mysterious Case of the Missing Blue Sock
It’s a bright, sunny Sunday. The clock strikes 10:00 AM as I carry a loaded hamper toward the laundry room. Mom is feeling under the weather, so I’ve taken over this chore to let her relax. I separate the white laundry into a pile and turn to the washing machine. With a twist of the knob, the machine comes to life with a loud WHIR. Feeling oddly triumphant, I lift the white pile and toss it in. Next, I grab the liquid detergent and fabric softener, add them to the mix, and close the lid. With a TING, the washing machine stops. I open the lid, pull out the freshly cleaned laundry, and transfer it to the dryer. Then, I load the colored pile, add detergent and softener, and shut the lid once more. Peering through the little glass window, I watch the clothes swirl in a hypnotic dance. WHIR—WHIR—WHIR—WHIR, The spin cycle kicks in with a purr. Suds and water swirl and flow, Dancing clothes put on a show— Some find joy (though most ignore), For them, it’s just one chore more. The dryer buzzes to a stop. After hanging the first load on the clothesline, I move the now-clean colored pile into the dryer. Once done, I open the lid and pull out the clothes—but wait! One blue sock is missing. Annoyed, I peer into the empty dryer. Nothing. Hmm. The sock monster strikes again. I sift through the pile of clean laundry and—aha!—there it is, clinging to the back of a sand-brown tee. With the laundry basket in hand, I head outside to hang the rest. Letting nature do its work, I retreat to the kitchen for a refreshing drink. As I sip, I pick up my phone and order some chicken broth for Mom—hoping she feels better soon...
By Staringaleabout a year ago in Poets
Daydream
Her fingers softly trace his ear and down his jawline, across his lips and down his neck and her hair spills across him . She presses her hand down his shoulder to his arm, all the way to his fingertips, and he feels his breath stolen. She's a thief..
By Colleen Waltersabout a year ago in Poets
The Fun of Wirelessly Charging
Fun, you didn't see it. Fun, the glance. Fun, at first sites built for Fun, a wireless charging Nothing new under... The sun. Thank you for reading! Which part of the poem resonates with you? Share your thoughts. Please leave a comment. Copyright 2025 K.A. Smith
By K.A. Smithabout a year ago in Poets
