On the vinyl-covered flossy line,
Stretched between two iron T’s
Painted with silvery aluminum paint,
Are their secrets, of a sort.
Her slips, brassieres and panties, pristine white as a wedding gown.
His button-front cotton drawers, archaic as a shaving brush,
Hang pegged to the line with wooden pins, by spring-loaded tension.
The wind blows on this sunny day,
Evaporation is magic as shirts and chinos change to cotton boards,
As another metamorphosis, by shiny electric iron, awaits.
Night finds the bed clothed anew, sheets infused with outdoor smell,
The fragrant aphrodisiac invites repose, compels arousal.
He removes the propriety of pyjamas, as she sheds opacity of nightgown.
And, confident of sleeping children and plaster walls,
With caress and kiss, pant and cry,
They create, at the very least,
…..another load of laundry