Brown Socks, Or Green?

Green in the summer and wintertime brown
The socks are pulled up and don’t like to come down

Sage starts to frown if her socks aren’t on tight
Her legs are bare-naked and shiny and white

To her that’s not right and she wants to go play
The neighborhood’s calling her day after day

To cure her dismay kids will stop by
I open the door and they barely say hi

Sage on the fly runs to greet all her friends
Her joy is contagious and off the deep end

Pretending I’m air they walk out the door
They throw around balls but never keep score

And Sage will ignore me; whatever I say
When she’s got her socks on she’s having her way

They’ll stay in the yard for such a long time
Finally my doorbell will echo a chime

Covered in grime Sage had all her fun
Then she wants dinner; the games are all done

She thinks that she’s funny and sports her big grin
She skips to the kitchen (she never walks in)

During the winter her socks are up high
She always wears brown when the ground isn’t dry

My eyes spot the trails she leaves on the floor
Dirt from the kitchen out to the front-door

Before I get mad she looks up at me
And Sage is the cutest girl I’ll ever see

There may be some bias; I guess I can’t say.
She stares at me helpless her hair in a fray

I survey the damage I can’t use a broom
So out comes the mop just to clean up the room

And there in her costume-like pretty brown socks
Sage gets all comfy for grooming her locks

She blocks it all out … the mess that she’s made
I clean and she watches; it’s not a fair trade

I act like her maid and then I’m her cook
It’s like we play chess; she’s queen and I’m rook

Then she says look; her legs on display
Brown socks or green … depends on the day

Copyright © 2007 Ken McCardell

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