Gibber-ish

When you’re looking for trust, look for the celebration that is phosphorus and then it will glow and proclaim that perhaps it wasn’t shagged to death in a tumult of deathliness that would soon be the undoing of a matron who was monitoring the halls in the hope that a sergeant from the infantry division of the unit from WWII would be along shortly and present her with pork sausages and eggs(on the sunny side up, of course) and then they would indulge themselves in a mad and passionate burping contest whose sounds would haunt the hollowed halls of the very institution for many days. And perhaps one day, a young student would lean gently against the wall and in a rare moment of silence, hear the echo of the actions past, between the matron and the much decorated war veteran.