We had met virtually every late Friday afternoon
in quiet consort armed with paper, pen and books.
The wooden card-catalogue tucked neatly to one side.
Nestled between the henna rectangle of Red Square
and a pristine and sparkling bay, the gothic library sat
at the epicenter of the lush and beautiful campus.
After an eon of absence, I found myself basking
in the amber glow and comfort of the library’s innards.
I tried to ignore the bank of computers and the study
carrels that replaced the old, familiar card-catalogs.
I left knowing I probably would never visit here again.
I walked to the outskirts of the city and stole one last
look at the jagged spires towering over the cherry blossoms.
I wished my old, trusted friend a loving farewell.
