Though night and day cover the same earth,
Their worlds are far unrelated;
Yes, the two portals of time
I know have skies the same,
But what one attracts
The other scares away.

Having lived a campus-student life,
Later departing to seek rest,
I was attracted to Scarborough’s halls
When darkness would ink the above
And when the daytime student traffic
Minimized, which freed space hard to claim
With the sun exposed.

Rays of LED lights flash
On the library’s main outside portico,
Students’ shoulders magnetized to the foundational pillars,
Bodies slanted, neutral-faced and minds set for commuting home.

Perfect!  Though other peers plan according to the daily rush,
I know there will be a chair for me and a platform to stack my books
Inside the library.
I neck my head heavenward
As I ascend the split-foyer stairs,
Seeing if others descend so as not to run over or be run over.

The second-floor is a puzzle,
A maze of paths edging the perimeter,
The space columned with light-brown shelves of books.
Let’s see: Study room?  Taken.
A free table along the main communal hall of the second floor?
Eh, I feel watched there.
Aha!  A fine venue!
A single-person desk, an attached light,
Room on the desk for layering my backpack’s own library,
And side wooden indentations to conceal my peripheral vision.
I never would have expected to lust for nightly library moments,
But I believe, now, that my visits were past due.