A hospice custodian polishes the floors all day. I wonder if he does it so the souls don’t stick to the floor or so the soles don’t scuff the hallway leading to sorrow-soaked moments and final goodbyes. The beautiful kind.
The whir of his machine is louder than prayer. Perhaps for privacy.
He doesn’t smile. Nor does he furrow his brow or frown.
Pensive. Peaceful. He’s a caretaker, readying reflections, buffing the bridge to the beyond.
I watch him from a tiny window in the marketing department office.
Realizing just how meaningful his duties are. Certainly, far more rewarding than mine.
What a beautiful reflection – almost feels like a prayer.
This is really nice – quiet and powerful.
Beautifully poetic. Thank you.
Beautiful. A view of something I would normally not think twice about. Thank you for this vision.
I love it!
Very powerful…
Loved this, simple but thought provoking. Especially liked ‘He’s a caretaker, readying reflections, buffing the bridge to the beyond.’
Love it and love you ??
Just beautiful. So clean and clear. Thank you!!!
Sweet thoughts. A little love poem to someone who helps the world in a very unnoticeable way!
Ill never forget the janitor following me & ( cleaning )down the hall at Brockton hospital after giving birth to Alex , I apparently was leaving a trail & he told me very kindly! Lol
How beautifully written that is! A wonderful, and beautiful insight that this world needs so much more of ??
Beautifully written, with sensitivity and empathy! Delightful piece!!
Beautiful! Love souls/souls
Very thought-provoking……….