The Lounge

Hailey Hoffman

Ding, Ding. 4 minutes to clear the room

yet recent interactions did still loom,

the lounge in content appeared the same,

yet it was evident that seniors swiftly came.

The wooden table, sturdy as it lay,

was surrounded by chairs, in disarray.

Upon the table that did so sit,

were Starbucks cups, recently sipped

and near those cups, wrappers too stand,

from breakfast bars that were not so grand,

the munchkins left over for studies to come

were like a dream, created crumb by crumb.

And as the room darted back,

the couches, lay lumpy while they crack,

scattered on top are blankets galore

all unfolded and wrinkled with some on the floor.

The pillows, fluffy, yet firm stand tall,

along the couches ground and wall.

And finally, me, still, in the doorway,

frightened, as the school begins to pray.

To attendance, I somberly walk.

If only in the lounge I did not balk.

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The Lounge