The Day Before Vacation

Hear the never ceasing drone of air,
Moving through the building bare;
Hear the fluorescence, hear them hum,
Irritating and invasive, like a warpath drum.

Feel the paper crisp and dry;
From cubical there is a sigh;
See the colors drab and grey;
Here the distant echo of a child at play.

Never were there more hidden times;
Never were there more quiet hours;
Never were there more endless electronic rhymes;
Than time spent in a paper bower.

And somewhere below,
Cars come and cars go.
While escape artists in a world of cells,
Find freedom in Angelus bells.

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