British Library

It is a nest of the many alone,
All drawn to the honeycomb honeytrap -
Each grub has a cell with a single chair
And wireless umbilical wires one in.
Only a wanderer may spot the world
In laptop facets of the compound eye.
None leave nothing achieved solo again,
Progress mired by ink-trailed squared stacked paper.

And two found it.  One another.  Lips press
And smiles spread like wings filling the great room
As sunlight pouring through cathedral glass
Making beauty of a tawdry husk of stone.

I left smiling.  Industry unaided
Did not enjoin such cheerful joy so shared .