**Almost Summer** The library hums with silent pleas, Of coffee cups and turning leaves, Where sunlight paints the dusty floors, But finals tap on weary doors. A student sits with ink-stained hands, A brain like overburdened lands, Where every date and theorem lie Between a sigh and one more try. The campus blooms—an irony, While minds are trapped in entropy. The trees wear gowns of green and gold, But deadlines make the spring feel cold. Each hour a step, each quiz a climb, Up syllabi and See more