The harsh light glares a sterile sheen

The harsh light glares, a sterile sheen,

across the floor, a plastic scene.

My screen, a red word, sharp and stark,

a sudden CANCELED, left its mark.

I’d dreamed of landing, soft and deep,

a place where worries fall asleep.

Now just the hum of cooling vents,

and stale air, full of half-spent scents.

My stomach growls, a quiet moan,

for airport food I’d called my own.

The gate agent’s voice, a tired drone,

left me here, utterly alone.

No going back, no forward pace,

just stuck right here in this dull space.

A pause, a hiccup, in the race,

a lost expression on my face.