THE CLOTHESLINE

A clothesline was a news forecast
To neighbours passing by.
There were no secrets you could keep
When clothes were hung to dry.

It also was a friendly link,
For neighbours always knew,
If company had stopped on by
To spend a night or two.

For then you'd see the fancy sheets
And towels out on the line;
You'd see the company tablecloths
With intricate design.

The line announced a baby's birth
To folks who lived inside,
As brand new infants clothes were hung
So carefully with pride.

And the lines were full of diapers,
So white and bright and clean.
Because in those days of yore,
In stores Pampers were not yet seen.

The ages of the children could
So readily be known,
By watching how the sizes changed
You'd know how much they'd grown.

It also told when illness struck,
As extra sheets were hung;
Then nightclothes, and a bathrobe, too,
Haphazardly were strung.

It said, "Gone on vacation now,"
When lines hung limp and bare.
It told, "We're back!" when full lines sagged,
With not an inch to spare.

But clotheslines now are of the past,
For dryers make work less,
Now what goes on inside a house
Is anybody's guess.

I really miss that way of life.
It was a friendly sign,
When others knew each other best,
By what hung on the line.