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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