The Tower
The Tower
Ideally there would be
No teachers or students
Just a central tower
Stretching Babel-like
Into the clouds
Floor upon floor
Of quiet offices
In which devoted
Administrators patiently
Process a backlog
Of flyspecked paperwork
And send auto-replies
To those emailing
From far below
By snagging
The powdery Wifi
That floats down
From the windows
Tiny niches
Like you see
In the walls of castles
For archers
The tower doesn’t even
Have to be ivory
It could be
Red-brick crazily
Graphed in ivy
For all they care
As long as it’s tall
Enough that they need
Tanks of oxygen
On the top floors
So the ones up there
Can keep their heads clear