Bleary eyes, rough stubble, clothes long since unworn,
feet rested upon belongings he still did own.
A tired gaze following those flitting by,
desultory glances through windows at the dark, gloomy sky.
Surrounded by loneliness that strangers' company couldn't dispel,
throat parched with thirst that dunkin's coffee couldn't quell.
The night was young, but for once he wished it to grow older,
as the wind lashed against the doors, creeping drafts flowing colder.
Bouts of sleep visited him, alleviating his plight,
his eyes slowly closed, he sank into the night.
Yet each time his eyes rolled open, he muttered a mournful slight,

"Shouldn't have missed the goddamn connecting flight."