Poem: A Disused Sanctuary

I wrote this while in the library at college.  It always seems to calm me down when I read it.  Anyway, happy Friday!

A Disused Sanctuary

In the basement of the local library;

The old computers sitting, compiling imaginary numbers;

The stacks of smoke-stained newspapers expelling

The thick, condensed musk of age that loiters on the books,

Hangs in the air and is pumped through the open vents;

The simple, unpretentious walls adorned with

The nameless forgeries of well-known paintings;

The sick green pallor of the mottled carpet;

The succinct creeks of exploratorally half-opened doors

Like gasps of breath or momentary protestings;

The swift coming of ideas in the flutter shut of pages;

The well-anchored aisles in which to escape the

Prevailing gale and hoist my native flag to

Balk and eddy in the wind of my furtive exhales;

The would-be dim illicit corners of purloined

Kisses and huddled whispers;

The high shelves lined with the portable knowledge

Of so many trade magazines;

The calming babble from a book of poems

Or the ceaseless flood of the page-turner;

The empty book return carts, trashcans;

The nonexistent adding machines, calculators;

The countless unmanned work stations in which to accrue

The sweet temperate lapse of solitude.