At ten AM the young housewife <br />moves about in negligee behind <br />the wooden walls of her husband’s house. <br />I pass solitary in my car. <br /> <br />Then again she comes to the curb <br />to call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands <br />shy, uncorseted, tucking in <br />stray ends of hair, and I compare her <br />to a fallen leaf. <br /> <br />The noiseless wheels of my car <br />rush with a crackling sound over <br />dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling.<br /><br />William Carlos Williams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-young-housewife/
