The Atrium of pale blue and pink
a staggered arch in middle
a crinkled banner suspended at its height
and a strand of yellow hanging loosely.
A TV up on the right-hand wall
static-laced noise from a silver-striped box
some days it speaks of hockey, others politics
its picture rough like the speckled floor below.
"Not all that glitters is gold," it says today
the lights above have no glimmer, no gold
white skylight above dulls artificial light
though neither source can make the floors gleam.
Pyramid steps on the room's edges
stretch a third of the way up the wall
on them sit people, silent and pensive
little notebooks on laps or in hands.
Sometimes people cross the upper balcony
their footsteps fairly muted
a jangle of keys or a slam of a door
are the quietest of this room's noises.
Hallways stretch away to all sides
and if not hallways, then doors
one set is dark, as yet unopened
another lit by clouded sun's light.
"Buy Your Yearbook @
stsenyearbooks.com"
the "jo-" missing where the banner's folded
the little logo on the right is still whole.
Straight ahead, a mural, painted
from white, hard-to-see peace symbols
to a trail of flags from an artificial distance
towards clutter; each flag's country defined.
*Inspired by the "Realism" prompt
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