A small, ordinary moment sits at the center of this short poem: the laundry lady comes down the stairs carrying a basket, and the speaker realizes she has mixed up the wash once more. The result is that their socks will be pink for weeks.
The first lines slow everything down. "Slow, lumbering gait" and the basket balanced on her hip give us a clear picture of a heavy, unhurried walk. Then the last two lines land with a small jolt of humor. The speaker's tone seems more like weary amusement than real anger. The word "again" suggests this has happened before, and the speaker has more or less accepted it. There's a gentle, domestic mood here, a bit teasing and a bit resigned. The poem treats a tiny annoyance as worth noticing, and the pink socks become a quiet joke the speaker lives with.