In life’s stark waiting room, she stands alone,

Seeking peace where only shadows roam.

No haven found, no solace near,

Just echoes of a heart’s unspoken fear.

“You’re so lucky!” hum the drones, entranced

by fleeting glints where shallow dreams are danced.

Yet loss and grief have carved her weathered soul,

Each scar a tale no shiny trinket stole.

She moves through days, a mask of practiced grace,

Smiles for strangers, friends, an empty space.

Beneath, her heart’s a cup, brimmed with despair,

Its hollow weight too vast for tears to bear.

At dawn she rises, fleeing clamor’s din,

To chase the quiet where her thoughts begin.

She finds the beauty - fleeting, soft and rare -

In morning’s glow, in whispers of the air.

But darkness creeps, a thief of fragile calm,

Stealing light with unrelenting palm.