Working in lab on a friday evening

by rangr


Whose rooms these are, I think I know,
They must be asleep in their beds though.
They will not see me stopping here,
To watch their windows cover with snow.
 
All my lab mates must think it queer,
To stop without a coffee shop near.
Between the shop and the deserted lab,
The scariest evening of the year.
 
I gave myself a break,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only sounds are the sweep,
Of cars slushing and winds across the lake.
 
I can get to home and try to sleep,
Yet no results, ergo no sleep.
Hence, it would be long before I sleep,
Hence, it would be long before I sleep.
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