Waiting Room

Dim light flickers in the hushed, heavy air,

a parking garage filled with unspoken care,

cars hum like whispers, engines low and tense,

a heartbeat of worry that makes no defense.

The walls close in, memories swell like tides,

a familiar tension where hope often hides,

a friend’s routine shadow, yet deep down I know,

how fragile our lives can feel, ebb and flow.

A siren cuts through, sharp as a knife,

a reminder that chaos can dance with our life,

and I sit in this limbo, half here, half away,

a heartbeat away from the dawn of a day.