Saga of the sock

Saga of the Sock

         Along the Askerselva

I ran away from grey skies and the grey person who owned me once; sought color among the scents of dandelions, mustards and glossy buttercups. In bloom, I set my sights high. I wanted to climb oaks and maples, nestle in arms of a mother elm. But without a leg to hoist me up... I fell. Exhausted I lie here now. Do not mourn me as you pass. I am surrounded by angelwings of mapleseeds, caressed by souls of shoes.

         one grey sock
         one glance
         from a passerby

© Kåre Enga [Oslo, 23.mai.2015.]

Notes:

1. 'wings of green mapleseeds' changed to 'angelwings of mapleseeds'. Better image and rhythm. First posted, with photo that inspired it, on facebook.
2. 'souls' is intended.
3. edited June 1, 2015.

Akerselva: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1729886760379274&set=basw.AboupdnV3QpSsA...