Sheets Dried On the Line
Two capitol "T's" with wire strung,
stood stark in our back yard.
Until the day that sheets were hung,
then other toys we would discard.
There within billowing, pastel, clouds,
we would find a fortress to defend.
Where soldiers fought strong and proud,
victory was always ours in the end.
Sometimes they became a fairy maze,
for us butterflies to flit among,.
There we would spend most our day,
flowing amid, with arms outflung.
The clean freshness of sunshine scent,
was there to greet us at bedtime.
Nothing could compare, as we went,
to sleep on sheets dried on the line.
*note. One in a series about growing up
in our grandparents home
and the memories that make me smile.
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