Napo 17

I loved today's prompt, though I didn't realize I loved it at first.

Write a nocturne, it said. But it's so bright out, and I really am a morning person, I thought to myself.

But, I guess inspired a bit by Easter yesterday, and also my brief cleaning spree, I came up with this nifty little thing. I want to come back to this one and shape it, develop it some more. This one's got a little promise. 

Nocturne for Mopping the Floor

You know, come morning, the sun

Will be back. This daily miracle

Streaming in through the dirty window,

Illuminating everything fingertip smudge,

Every baseboard still needing scrubbing,

Every crevice of grout discolored.

And so you mop. Your faith is greater

Than your exhaustion. Nothing

Is so dirty that can’t be scrubbed clean

Again, even the tiles marred by the mud

Of your own boots. In this world,

there’s always more dirt than bleach.

The lavender scent of soap

can only cover up so much.

The mop loses its threads to this good fight

Of your sin. The broom frays. Your muscles ache.

If only the night would cloak this room forever.

If only this cleansing were as simple

as kneeling on a cold floor, eyes closed,

a nimble tongue asking for forgiveness.