Fruit of the loom Lament

Here I lay

forgotten.

Stepped over as some pretend that I'm not here.

But I am.

They sometimes kick me, and I fly

into the corner.

I cry, for I am sad.

They are afraid to touch me, they cringe as they come near me.

My soul cries out "I am clean! I am not soiled!"

And yet, I am shunned.

I am left alone, invisible to those who should see me,

but they look not upon me.

I have lost my way, fallen from my group of friends as they were carried away,

and left alone, among a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Toys and books and television remote controls mock me.

They know not the pain of abandonment.

For their batteries are still good.

I think of the one with whom I belong

and

I wonder if they will remember my softness and how easily I stretched and conformed to bring comfort,

yet, didn't bind.

I have loyally protected against the dangers of denim and the draftiness of nakedness,

still,

I lay here, waiting for someone to claim me as their own.

The one who needs me most denies that I belong, and wills others to take care of me,

yet,

I know that in nine days I will be searched for,

because I came in a package of ten.











p.s. Would the owner of the pair of underwear dropped on the family room floor on the way out of the laundry room please come forward to claim your property. You know who you are, and due to the size, color and gender of said underwear I know who you are too.

Thank you,
The management.