on Library Peoples

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me.

Give me your huddled, your broken,
Your wondering souls along a broken road.
Those weary feet, those lungs choken’
On smoke and dreams no more.

Give me your students hyped on coffee,
Waiting for inspiration to strike.
The scared, avoiding catasrophe,
Brave in appearence, but overcome with fright.

O, give me those who thrist for knowledge,
and those who long for something more.
Whose every breath looks towards college
but mind still roams through ancient lore.

The yuppies, consumed with ipods on,
immersed in music, ignorant of those around.
The homeless, seeking shelter from the wet lawn
and onto the computers they become bound.

The kids, who in innocence play
with heads dreaming of dragons in flight,
The old, with bodies wasting away
but minds still sharp as they read through the night.

Send all these, the broke, the wondrous in mind,
I lift my lamp besides a book they shall find!



partly inspired because of arriving at 8:30 when Bellevue Regional doesn’t open until 9.