Footprints Wiped off!
While you sleep,
we are the tide coming in to smooth the sand,
leaving the beach perfect for morning.
We are like birds building nests in the dark
gathering, arranging, making ready what you'll need at dawn.
The janitor's mop is a paintbrush erasing the day's scuffs, stroke by stroke.
The baker's hands fold dough like sheets on an empty bed,
tucking in tomorrow's warmth.
The nurse holds vigil like a candle that burns all night so others can rest.
You wake to a table already set,
a fire already lit, a path already cleared
not knowing we walked it first in darkness,
our footprints disappearing behind us like snow melting at sunrise.
We are the moon's workers,
the dream's stagehands,
the ones who polish stars you'll never see falling.
At dawn, we slip away quiet as fog,
and you inherit morning clean as new paper,
forgetting that someone held the pen all night,
writing your day into being.
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