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‘Good morning,’ called a pair of socks.
     ‘Hello,’ replied a shirt.
‘It’s lovely out here in the breeze 
       And free from all that dirt.’

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‘But I feel sick,’ a towel declared:
     ‘The spinning’s much too fast
And it’s so good to be out here,
     Quite free of it at last!’

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‘The soap powder’s a bit too strong,’
     The party dress declared.
‘And just the thought of spinning round,
      Of course makes me feel scared!’
 
‘You’re lucky,’ said a white school blouse:
      ‘I’m in there every week –
‘Whilst here, upon the washing line,
       I find the peace I seek.’

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‘This peg is cutting me in two,’
       A tea-towel cried in pain - - 
And then they felt, without a doubt,
      Some heavy spots of rain.

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So their morning on the washing line
    Soon ended – what a shame!
But their grumbling is still going on
    In the drier, just the same!

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Copyright on all my poems

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