The Cycle of Socks

I wanted to write another poem, but I could not think of what to write about. I decided to picked an ordinary object and write from its perspective. Here is what I came up with!

The Cycle of Socks

When those tiny toes'r too toasty,
Much too hot, or much to cozy,
Pull me off and chuck me over
In a wash'r to rid my odor.

Watch me as I go 'round and 'round,
Loose my mate and get all drowned--
Only to be spun, faster and faster
And hear this cycle sound a clatter.

When I'm wet, washed, and wrung,
Pull me out to go get hung.
Or, shove me in the heater go 'round--
While listening to the softly sound.

When I'm off of that ride,
Clean and smelly and very dry,
Pull me out into a hamper--
Hopefully, I won't be damper.

Leave me till you found my mate--
I'm sure it'll be months I await.
When you find my significant other
My fate'll lie in a drawer, to be smothered.

And when your fine feet start to freeze,
Pull me out to give a squeeze.
Warm and tender, your toes will be--
Come one, just wait, you'll see!

And as my cycle was begun,
Very soon it  was done.
     Now you know the Cycle of Socks
     Don't forget me! Or you'll be shocked.