The cloth on the cloth line

i see them smile at me every morning,
the same familiar
white cloth diapers,
blue uniform,
shirt, trouser & pelikat
in their deteriorating colour,
hanging lively on the cloth line,
in orderly fashion,
resembling a mouth like figure,
that speaks about a baby,
about a loving mother,
about the sufferring of a caring father,
who works like a dog,
who can't afford what you can easily afford

and once a week,
a white school uniform joins the parade,
as usual it also smiles at me

clothes on the cloth line,
they speak a lot without voices,
in a peculiar language
that not everyone understand,
and yet truth is what they tell