When liquid drops
The sweeper mops
In dark corridors
He works on more
Retrieving lost items
A phone, jacket, and shoe
Who could have guessed
He could have been like you
A human behind the sweeper’s uniform
Where the English language is no cuneiform
He works tirelessly to get his pay
Until he breathes his last breath one day
And his two children cry by his bed
A daughter, a son
At the man now dead
To them he was more than a sweeper
A father, a friend, a very light sleeper
For when they cried he was always there
Buying them clothes, food, and toys, to comfort their tears
A single-dad to a runaway mom
He paid for the Internet
As they visited youngwriterssociety.com
Cheers to the sweeper
Who was more than met the eye
Not a loser, deadbeat, or creeper
But a human as you and I
