Sighing with the Sweeper.

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This is here ,because there IS,

With the swish of a broom,

Resonating the thoughts of the doom,

About the bills to pay ,

About the dance to sway to.

 

The lunch that is packed ,

Feels insipid and crass,

To rest while his hands are in motion,

To bray while the horns make a commotion.

 

He plasters a smile along with the swish of his broom,

He sits because his footsteps are tied to the loom.

He makes a pretty picture ,

Sitting astray.

Thinking about the love ,who is perpetually  in disarray.

 

He moons in the daylight,

With the songs of serenade brushing past his mind,

He loathes and yet he prays,

For that one day he wont be swishing his broom away.Image

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