Poem: The Library is Mine

Socks on soft scarlet carpet between towering shelves.

The dark outside lends serenity to the silence within.

The library is mine,

All knowledge within my reach.

On silent feet I pass a solitary student

And mirror him at my own desk, hunched mutely.

Blank screens surround me, empty desks,

My own an island of study,

Scattered with books, notes, scribbles and stationery.

I pause in my scholarship,

Look up at my own reflection in the window,

Only cold blackness and the sleeping beyond.

Warm indoors, I wiggle my toes and turn the page,

And keep reading of ancient heroes,

Philosophers and scholars,

And what they believed and what they knew.

That which they left in legacy

For me to read.

The library is mine.

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