Between these pillars of word and wood,
We sat as long as we knew we could.
Staring hazily at the spines,
We dreamt of a world so fine.
Where we were free
To shout, to scream, to simply be.
For here we are among friends,
Even if they were created by pens.
In hushed voices we whisper,
But we've never sounded crisper.
We talk of the horrors beyond
This haven of which we've grown so fond.
In Greecian times they would've wrote a play,
A tragedy in every way!
To describe our valient fight,
Against our wicked enemy's might.
And whilst I read of heros of old,
Who were adorned with gold,
I know the fact that we are here,
Is something we should both hold dear.