Grace gave you your first package of clothespins.

You decorated them wit your woodburning kit.  You made symbols, wrote lofty ideas-hope, touch, brave.  You put them back in the package.  Unused.  Save the birthday party when you solicited money from strangers.  "Hang it on my shorts," you begged.  A dirty child with no manners. 

There  is no line outside your bedroom.  The backyard remains empty.  There are no drying clothes flying.  There are no seagulls cooing harmony.  There is no song.