by Sandra S Corona
Thinking about Christmas gifts?
I went to see my doctor, my left heel was quite sore.
He found out my problem. “Throw your socks out the door!”
Thought I’d wasted money (healed in a week or more).
Saw the doc on Monday and on my feet he found
a pair of fleas dancing on toes, playing around
Now in a Mason jar they, happily, are bound.
Wore my socks on Thursday when frost was on the ground.
My heels then were achin’ threw socks, my toes were brown,
fetched, got that Mason jar, set those dang fleas down.
Again saw the doctor, showed mossy feet and toes.
“Do you see their circus? They prefer toes to nose.
The fleas are “Foxy,” “Socks” and prefer pantyhose.
My socks, upon the table, are growing flocks of fleas.
Now that I’m unemployed, my income is on ‘squeeze’.
Funny fleas make money, folks guffaw, slap their knees.
If you’ve flocks of socks, pack them in a box,
They’d like them ‘smelly’ but without ooze, pox.
If you send me gifts know I DO like socks!
Post your funny poetry here.
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