Stopping by a Library in a Panic (with apologies to Robert Frost)

Whose steps I hear I think I know
I thought that she was working though
I did not think she’d find me here
In the library’s bowels, deep below

I guess my friend would think it queer
To leave the house and study here
So far from home, and wearing pants
Not study habits I hold dear

She passes me without a glance
I open my book, resume my trance
And tell myself I know that she’d
Take pity on my circumstance

The library has the quiet I need
I have assignments yet to bleed
And sixty pages still to read
And sixty pages still to read

(the original poem)

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