Six Hours of Silence— And Then
You existed
for six hours in silence
until I saw your hand
grip the armrest—
hard—
and asked
your name.
I guessed David.
You said John,
with an H.
I was about to say
the same,
but without
the H—
when your phone buzzed
and you said hello
to your wife.
On my screen,
a message from mine:
she’d meet me
at the luggage carousel.
I watched you walk
toward your next gate,
toward home.
Another connection
missed.
Another almost-friend
never to be seen again.
Six Hours of Silence— And Then
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airport poem, contemporary poetry, emotional intimacy, emotional resonance, everyday encounters, existential longing, fleeting relationships, human connection, literary poetry, loneliness, missed connection, observational poetry, Poem, poetic monologue, poetic narrative, poetic reflection, poetic silence, poetry, quiet grief, relational tension, subtle heartbreak, travel poem
Comments
2 responses to “Six Hours of Silence— And Then”
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I feel the loss/regret perhaps? A moment missed. Nicely penned!
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totally love this
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