Afternoon Waltz

Slapping soaked rags to the floor

She lifts her Crocs and settles

She stretches across the kitchen

Waltzing the Blue Danube

 

Coffee stains disappear with ease

While sticky juice droplets

Require another pass or two

Until their cling is forever gone

 

Into the bucket she rinses

And slaps to continue gliding

Now The Waltz of the Flowers

She danced as a child

 

In time the rags are dark

The floor showing no signs

Of early morning breakfasts

She twirls for the applause