Tears-Hour 22- text poetry prompt response

As i sweep the rooms , water splashes around, leaving a trail. I follow it around, a dog at its tail. There are no fine bone china to be broken by bumping on to a table, i curse my good luck as i mop away the trail of dust lingering under the chairs. There is no way this ends well. I bend down to look at my reflection in the water now drenched by all my dust. Cusping my hands into a wish, i dip it in that which held me so freely. Splashing it over my now blood-shot eyes, i find the tears i was looking for.

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