Laundry

 

I hang my dreams on a washing line,

Lilac, musk and chamomile,

Scented hopes that are drip dried,

Cleaned anew and cast aside.

Linen wishes pegged on twine,

Wool and silk and lanoline,

Textured hopes that cannot breath,

Flying loose upon the breeze.

Patterned sheets of sacrifice,

Prints and weaves and compromise,

Chances pegged and held secure,

Mixing trash with haute couture.

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I hang my dreams on a washing line,

To begin afresh those hopes of mine.