Office Hours

The last one out turns off the lights, and all life has left the room.

It's the sound of the office in the earliest hours of the morning.

The backup lights hum their tune, the same one as they've been humming all day,

even though they know nobody is listening.

And still they keep out the dark with their florescent stare,

And will do so until they die.  

The breathing of the fans compels the dust to dance through the air,

Until it finally settles on the top of the cabinet, 
To sleep undisturbed for days.

Even without the people,
Even without the sunlight,

The office carries on.