Odd scraps of wool, their mothers’ spare needles. The boys and the girls, every age, every grade Miss Flora Secombe, so prim and proper has already made six and won the award. Meg and Betty, both in grade 3, are still on their first and can’t quite get the toe. Tommy Buchanan does not know his father no longer has need of the socks he … Continue reading Socks – An Armistice Day Poem