Dirty Socks
 
 


by Bruce Lansky
 
   
My socks are very dirty,
so I washed them in the lake.
It wasn’t long before I knew
I’d made a big mistake.

The water changed from clear to mud.
Then fumes began to rise.
And soon a cloud of air pollution
covered up the skies.

When bullfrogs started croaking
and ducks began to quack,
some campers started chanting,
“We want our clean lake back.”

I’ve got a pile of dirty socks.
I’m in an awful bind.
I guess I’ll have to bury them.
I hope the worms won’t mind.

 

Text © Bruce Lansky reprinted from If Pigs Could Fly...and Other Deep Thoughts, published by Meadowbrook Press. Illustration © Stephen Carpenter. Any copying or use of this poem or illustration without consent is unlawful.

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