Today's prompt is: swept away.
In completely unrelated news *cough* I'd like to say again: go Canucks go.
Straw bristles rush across the floor,
A cheerful tune goes with the chore;
The baker greets the rising sun
With a cloud of dust and fresh buns.
His steaming wares all in a row,
Proudly arranged in the window;
While he's out back feeding a stray,
His precious buns are swept away.