Monday’s Laundry

How white Monday’s laundry
against a bright blue sky of summer
hung from a clothesline stretching
from a third floor window to a telephone pole

watching grandma hang the clothes
my feet pushing on the treadle
while sitting at her ancient sewing machine
“Non giocare con la machina!”

Her wrinkled hands now leaning on the sill
looking out across a yard of grass
forbidden to tenants of the third floor
no dogs or kids allowed

perhaps dreaming of her mother’s garden
a few chickens, almond trees and wild flowers
good things that may return one day
if not for her, perhaps for me.

A sigh, a turn and then a smile
as we together water geraniums
in a window box erasing the gloom
from the brown bricks of a Brooklyn tenement.




About toritto

I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004. We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world. I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday. I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics. :-)
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1 Response to Monday’s Laundry

  1. beetleypete says:

    A nice memory of life in the city, Frank. At least you got Grandma’s wished-for garden.
    Best wishes, Pete.

    Liked by 1 person

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