Gas Station Reverie

The gas station glows, a beacon in dark,

a solitary figure, a stranger, a spark.

Neon buzzes like ghosts with secrets to tell,

and shadows flicker, a soft, silent swell.

He leans on the pillar, scrolling the night,

while the hum of the engines ignites in the light.

A half-empty cup rolls, caught by the wind,

as the world holds its breath, a comfort rescind.

The asphalt reflects what the heart cannot show,

a quiet acceptance in the stillness below.