Standing alone in Cambridge
A hotel lobby to somewhere
Yet again another place where life's trumpet
Endures confinement in its case
Its silence reaching out
To quiet anteroom chatter of expectation
Atop the distant bartender's "last call"

A place where books of the courtesy library
Remain silent with dust of disinterest accumulating

A  place where silent voices speak boredom
Nervous laughter cries for reward

The complacent breathing of a doorman
Waits out the dampness of nights
Longing for the morning sun

My friend across the counter asks
"Will that be cash or credit, sir?"
I answer, smiling
"Credit."

Today's lobby to somewhere
Yesterday's anticipation of dreams
Not yet realized

A long journey's stopover
Where carrying the baggage of time
Gives cessation but for a single night's repose
Allowing for the morning alarm to announce
Yet another day
Another voyage going toward
Another lobby to somewhere

Standing alone