My Laundry Basket

My laundry basket’s tall and round, Of wicker or rattan. We’ve had it since some years before Our children’s lives began. It sits beneath the windowsill, Its cover in its place And patiently accepts our clothes ‘Til it is out of space. The sheet and towels, socks and shirts And pants all end up there – The spectrum of apparel That my spouse and I do wear. When wash day comes, just once a week, The basket takes a rest Until it’s time for one of us, Again, to get undressed.