Store Front Sweeper Woman I’ve traveled worldwide To places called third worlds. Dirt roads and huts Manicured by women sun-risers Welcoming days beginning With the swish-swish of their broom. Sweeping the past away, making each day fresh. Here in Burien where I reside, An elderly woman lived inside her store, A jumble of old relics Non-antique worthy. She housed a beggar who had nowhere to live. Dressed just as poorly as the beggar She squatted with a hand sweeper, Keeping her five feet of entry immaculately clean. Her place is boarded up, She passed away, The beggar gone to other spots. I mourn my sweeper.
As things change, so do we. Notice in your lives those who are now absent. Let me thoughts @http://www.abberolnick.com
