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It rained the day they closed the libraries for good.
The death had been swift in the end;
a shock diagnosis, a whimpering fight,
For weeks they came, faces somber, choking upon condolences as they
mumbled their outrage that those buildings
– those places –
would soon be stripped away forever.
Children clutching at hands, embarrassed to be kind, offered
farewell cards from behind their fathers’ backs,
their militant mothers staring down the television cameras
determined to fight to the end.
Some went quietly,
those familiar wrinkled faces who slipped away without fanfare.
Others banged each drum loudly as
the doors were hammered shut.
Some wept when their adventures ended,
those familiar paper portals closed to them
The death had been swift in the end,
and it rained that day regardless.