Sonnet Yet Un-situated 

Once, now long ago, you entered the room.

I hadn't planned to sit in the front row,

But finding others always sparked my gloom.

I'm not that social (though they think they know);

If I do not look at what's behind me:

Anxiety's quelled –– pretend one-on-one.

Psychology Building: Room 103 – 

Not our Department. No words on Byron. 

Yet, many rooms you graced over the years

Were filled with constellations and insights.

One day, I found a chair away from peers

And from this seat grasped the wick of delight.

No mockeries of flame. Almost fire.

Fuel's already set when Time transpires.