Mystery in the Library 

There is something afoot

Not quite a miss

A mystery though

A plot to be thickened


So day after day I scale steps

Stacks and shelves steeped

In learning

In hidden knowledge


Silence and scholars

Sort of

Swipe cards and secrets

Sort of


At the eye of the storm

Of scripts and science

Study and stupor

Sits our man in Surrey




Hard to say

Story? Certainly


Every morning, bleary eyed

Without a tail

I sweep upstairs and into

The world of words


At some point in recent times

Our man, Some Guy appeared




The next day the same

Sits transfixed at his


Same old story.



Every day now

For nigh on two weeks

He has preceded my early entry

Yet he is there at remains of the day

I have never seen stand, swap seats 

He has an uncanny habit

Of resting his hands on the keys 

But keying in no words


It gets better though

Yes, sweeter still

He has not once changed his shirt

Same old threads


So. Theories. Sure.

After some days I surmised

A statue perhaps, stoic

Silently slipped into place


Shattered, though

For today I saw him, I swear

Go so far, so strikingly

As to scratch his noggin


Does the man never leave?

Safe to say there are secrets


Mystery in the library


Sloth out 


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