The Clothesline

I caught a glimpse of Mama
Hanging out the clothes;
I still recall that fragrance,
As sweet as any rose.

The simple little dresses
That Mama made for me
Were washed and dried, hung outside,
Between the clothesline trees.

I still can feel the gentle wind
Brush against my cheek;
And when the clothes were neatly hung,
The sun played hide-and-seek.

Blowing here, billowing there,
At last the clothes were dried;
'Twas no place I would rather be
Than with the clothes outside!

--Helen Gregory