There’s a hum in the background
The heater is on and the computer next to mine.
Pages are being rifled far away
Head are bent over books and pages of frosted white and antique yellow
Oh my,
I’m lost in the library
In the roamings and comfortings of thousands of dreams
Of thousand of dreams
Of thousands of dreams
Of thousands of adventures, pain and anguish
Of love and romance, and desire and destitute
Among facts and theories
And books that have not been touched since 1968
I’m lost in the library
I don’t want to be found
(A note, I wrote this right now, first draft read over it once then posted. I'm in the library and working there not actually among the books though that would be nice. tell me what you think and if anyone else ever feels this way.)