Tuesday, September 18, 2012

The Library Story

She clenches the sneeze as her fingers type
Choking loudly as she gasps for air
Blonde hair pouting with her silent gripe
Keyboard shaking from her angry glare

A man walks by, coat streaked with mire
Across the floor his boots paint stains
He droopingly saunters to retire
Couches beckon to take his strains

These are the people of the library
Seeking secrets of the sphere
Whether they are joyful or wary
Into books become King Lear

Strokey Beard they christened him
As a seat he never takes
Soothing his hair with a smile so grim
Heels dragging as the breaks

She examines the man with a sneer
Knowing something I do not
Humorous orbs behold the beard so sere
She returns to type a bit distraught

Acquainted with each other from the past
Or maybe from another life
They regard one another with eyes of glass
Anger coldly slicing like a knife

Do you want to know their story?
For I am sure it is one of show
Be it full of books and glory
Or be it of anger and of woe

From where they come I do not know
But I know that they share their zeal
With words of William Yeats or Thoreau
Underneath they are most genteel

These are the people of the library
Seeking secrets of the sphere
I do not know all of their story
But I know it resembles Shakespeare


  1. How the heck did you write this!? Where do you learn you vocab, seriously, I love the words you use like "mire" and I want to know your study secrets. You are an incredible writer, and I am dead serious when I say that. How did you learn to write like that? teach me!

    1. Hahaha, i don't know, I guess it comes with the nerdiness :P Let's sit and write someday and you can watch me pull out my hair and then you can learn to do it too! hahaha! Love you!