Work area

I was uprooted from my native place
to a totally strange land
new faces, new culture, new slang
everything appeared new in my eyes

Had to sit in a room, surrounded by vouchers
full of letters and digits
Numerals attracted me , motivated me to
sit for long and find solutions

As days pass, the day came when
I had to find a historic piece
Climbed the stairs to reach the museum
Everything was hidden one below the other

On seeing my colleague wearing a green mask ,
I got confused , am I entering an Operation theater
But , accumulated dust tried to escape as I opened the door

Within seconds I covered my nostrils

Had to pull out tonnes of vouchers
just to realize the task was uneasy
Mind was scared, whether any reptiles
made burrows beneath the sacks

Was it a junkyard?
It stored documents belonging to years before my birth
Hidden treasures seems to be of no use
Still they are preserved for wastage of space and energy