THE LIBRARY. 
 
Guinness , Port,
And Cuban Cigars,
Expectant,
Turns Pages, 
Of  dusty spin  tingling Shelves,
Hushed are the Voices now, 
Round Desks and Tables ,
Carved, 
Deep within yesterdays Graffiti,
 
Perhaps,
Nothing More,
Than a silent Kiss,
Or a Poem left over!