My Laundry Basket

My laundry basket’s tall and round,
Of wicker or rattan.
We’ve had it since some years before
Our children’s lives began.

It sits beneath the windowsill,
Its cover in its place
And patiently accepts our clothes
‘Til it is out of space.

The sheet and towels, socks and shirts
And pants all end up there –
The spectrum of apparel
That my spouse and I do wear.

When wash day comes, just once a week,
The basket takes a rest
Until it’s time for one of us,
Again, to get undressed.