Second Retrospective

Laundry almost done
She sits on the floor
Sorting socks
spread all around her.
She pairs one to another
like the questions that she slowly
removes from the pile she has created
answers are not simple, not found on the floor
like the yellow sock she swiftly folds into its match.
But they are still found.
One, on the roof of a yellow house,
held in the arms of someone else.
Another, hung up in the monotony of repetition
in honor of perfection.
Forgotten is found,
marked with wear of winter, and dripping in sunlight
in the corner of an abandoned parking lot
The sorting almost completed,
she puts away the memories,
and places the unmatched socks in a basket,
waiting to be found until the next load of laundry.