Odd Peg

Odd Peg

First birds she heard in the dawn,
found an odd peg lying on the lawn
that must have fallen from the line,
left forgotten, sodden by the rain,
trodden deeper in the ground,
so sad and silent, but then,
an odd peg cannot make a sound.
She stooped, picked it up,
put it in her peg bag in her shed,
bunched it with the other pegs,
thought of all the things
that had come and fled,
but now that odd peg
would help her hang out
her clothes and sheets on the line,
so once again, it would shine,
when the weather’s dry and fine.
And she said to one she could not see:
Sorry it was me and not the one
you wanted me to be.
Sorry it was me but I was not sorry it was you,
for it was you I was looking for.
It was you I wanted to see
when I opened the door.
Sorry I was just another shell on the ocean shore,
just another cherry in the market store.
Sorry I could tell that you wanted more.
Sorry for the things that we never did,
sorry for the things ever to be hid.
Sorry for this odd peg I found on the ground.
It cannot cry, for it cannot make a sound,
but when I hang my clothes and sheets on the line,
like me, once again it will shine,
when the weather’s dry and fine.

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