Franklin Hall

They're locking the doors to Franklin Hall.
The crowds
Done with chatting, have scattered and thinned
Save for the three or four, who
Having overstayed, and perhaps too loud in the hushed aftersilence,
Find new occasion in the lateness of the hour.
In the thin shadowy glare of house lights
Blue-jeaned workers gather up the remnants
Of the event once anticipated which has now run its course,
While somewhere a slamming door
Echoes through the muffled acoustic vacancy
Of the hall.

It was a wonderful affair...
Each empty row
Alive with applause and conversation.
So much hurry and excitement,
Nervousness and worry,
The glow of accomplishement and
The warm embrace,
So many kind words spoken.
It almost made me forget

Not to linger too long in Franklin Hall.
When the final patron has gone
And the workmen are through
And the last light turned out,
All I can take, all that remains,
Are its faint echoes and
Emptiness.

Tags: poetry, free verse