In the quiet halls where knowledge blooms,Amidst the whisper of turning tomes,Stands Mugume Johnson, the librarian wise,A guardian of stories, under tranquil skies. With gentle hands and knowing eyes,He navigates realms where imagination lies,From ancient scrolls to modern prose,He weaves the fabric of dreams and those. Shelves upon shelves, a labyrinth of lore,He tends to each book, a custodian of yore,With a smile that welcomes, a heart that cares,He opens doors to worlds, for those who dare. In the morning light, he starts his day,With a purpose clear, in his steady way,Organizing knowledge, from A to Z,In this temple of words, he's the key. Children gather 'round, in awe and delight,As Johnson reads tales of valor and might,His voice, a melody, smooth and warm,Guiding young minds through each literary storm. Scholars seek him, with queries profound,In his vast wisdom, answers are found,With patience and grace, he leads them through,The endless corridors of the known and the new. When dusk falls and shadows grow long,In the silence, Johnson remains strong,A beacon of light, in the library's heart,Where learning and wonder never depart. Mugume Johnson, a name softly spoken,In the reverence of pages, a spell unbroken,A librarian true, in every sense,A keeper of stories, our souls' recompense.Mugume Johnson