In the Founder’s Hall

 

The rasp of coffee, followed by the hiss of whipped cream;

Pocket change singing after the ding of another sale;

A clatter of ice accenting the hum of the cooler;

 

And in the corner, a keyboard clicks.

 

 

The door thumps open at the rattle of the bar;

A woosh, then the slap of it closing;

Alarm beeps send annoyed footsteps back to the library desk;

 

And in the corner, a baby laughs.

 

 

That familiar voice, the slide of a chair;

A backpack slumps to the floor, the laugh of a close friend;

Timeless ringtone, the click of a phone;

 

And in the corner, a woman sighs.

 

 

“Hello”  ”How are you?”  “When’s your next class?” ;

“Nice shoes”  “Nice phone” “Did you see last night’s episode?” ;

“I love you” “Goodbye” “I need to get going.” ;

 

And in the corner, a young mother juggles life and dreams.

 

Bryan Haiser

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