Clean Sweep

people like us - who sweep a floor
like we do - we do it because
we like to. it is not the usual way.
the water is in excess.
specially when the water is in excess,
and the assistant sweeper is making a fuss
about it, but the main sweeper sweeps on,
and on, and away
- the frantic cries and calls,
the practicalities of it all.

climbing upstairs head bowed,
an excess of water appeared,
and around it some drama -
two pairs of moving feet,
buckets, moppers, and mopping
- in soft strokes.

the sounds and sights were enough -

someone here, was people like us.

The main sweeper.

Not a word from him -

only soft strokes, head slightly bowed.

Bucket in hand, the assistant complained on.

i knew.
but I wanted to see his face.
so I saw.
he was smiling, of course.
swaying of sorts.
and I know, that smile
from miles.
catch a twinkle,
in the eyes.

he was doing it
because he liked to
because it was the better way of doing it.
More water.

he wouldn't clean for the pretence of it,
rather resign.
Be the watchman who never slept.
The milkman who never adulterated.
The postman who was never late.

We digress
and that's what poems are for.

It was a delight, today,
to find someone who
swept a floor
like I do.