Library, Floor 2

Standard

Once more for the last time

In my regular, lake-facing desk.

The music of keyboards and rustling pages,

The quiet that speaks louder than words,

They all surround me in a comfortable haze.

Some are reviewing, some talking to friends,

Or racing perhaps to make a deadline.

Papers printed or uploaded,

One last check on the details

And a barely-there sigh of relief.

 

Sitting here for the last time;

For the last essay of my degree.

I will miss this loud quiet,

The mesmerising view,

The claustrophobic corridors of books

PA, PL to PQ and even the rolling stacks!

I know these selves so well,

I close my eyes and count down codes.

Malory here, Chaucer is opposite,

Go to the left and three cases down for the Grail.

Classics in a corner, mythology one floor up,

PQ was moved to 02 –Joy!

 

Yes, I will miss this block of concrete

That I called home away from home,

But I must move on. Write those last

Three-and-a-half thousand words,

Convert, submit.

One last assignment, one last day,

At Library, Floor 2, with my back

On N 6851 to N7292.

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