I silently tip-toe.
I hide and I sneak.
I won’t make a noise.
My shoes do not squeak.
I’m being as quiet
as I can be
but my lion roars
at poetry.
If he’s near short fiction
he bats with his paws.
If he sees an atlas
it goes in his jaws.
He’s usually calm
like very old dogs
He just gets excited near
card catalogs.
I’m not really sure
why your angry with me
I’m being quiet
in the library.
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