I hated helping Nana as she stood in the cold,
Hanging bed sheets on the laundry line with pins.
On freezing cold days, they became shaky bricks.
And were painful when they hit you on the shins.
But, the sweet smells of those sheets on our beds,
As they kept us toasty warm from head to feet,
Have never been successfully duplicated today,
In the ritzy fragrant scents of dryer sheets.
My age is telling today! Poem written for The Three Things Challenge for the Haunted Wordsmith: laundry line, shaky, Nana. Here in the American South, we called them clotheslines and clothespins. Fandango prompt is Ritzy.