There’s only two on the line their work now done,
no longer holding fabric as it dries in the sun.
I wonder if it could be socks they’d kept tight
or a fancy shirt worn once on going out night.
Perhaps it was a pair of trousers without a belt
or even a child’s toy, bright and made of felt.
Perhaps there are others lying in the street
part of a team tasked to dry the double sheet
Now suddenly as at these two pegs I stare
I realise that to be honest I really don’t care.