To my North,
gusts of gales rousing my hair to life,
sun setting as I run in a continuous loop,
face striped in purple paint.
To my East,
dim light flickering from the outside,
rows of authors waiting patiently
to be opened, discovered.
To my South,
a place of laughter, animated chatter and
best memories over potatoes in
any imaginable form.
To my West,
the fountain stands proud, the heart of campus,
not to be caught on the wrong side
in the wild wind.