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

 

Spy?

Hero?

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

Surreptitious

Unsuspect

 

The next day the same

Sits transfixed at his

Screen

Same old story.

Ha.

 

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

Stories

Mystery in the library

 

Sloth out 

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