The Lone Sweeper

 

It’s 3 am
The street empty
Shutters down
The Market
Sleeps.
It’s a small town.

The roads they
Turn in their beds
Sometimes groan..
Shuu…it’s a dream

And there I see the lone
Guy with his long broom
Quietly silently
Cleaning the Market
Of it’s day long
Debris

Of Pretenses fallen.
Of Joys wrapped;
in ice cream wrappers.
Of worries people brought here
And left – Refreshed.
To start living again – Hopefully.

And he whistled softly as he swept
No one in the daylight will stop to wonder
Where , all the rubbish went
No one will know his name
No one will recognize him in daylight.


And he is happy with that
Just doing what he is meant to do
Oblivious to – The philosophies of life
And just content living it.

The rhythmic sound of his broom stops just a bit
And I am pulled out of my revere
I look up …
Oh!! A piece of chocolate wrapper stuck under the wheel .

The humming and sweeping begin once again
My heart jumps up and applauds loudly …
Giving him a standing ovation.
And I go back – to another clean day.