Lobby To Somewhere
by Odin Roark

A place where voices speak the boredom,
laughter cries for reward,
and quiet patience of the doorman
waits out the dampness of night,
longing for morning sun.

A time when the hotel lounge
merges a piano's reverie with inane chatter,
where grandiose expectations take flight with the bartender's "last call,"
a place where the hallway library remains idle,
dust of disinterest forever accumulating.

A lobby to somewhere,
the ever-welcoming embrace to dreams unrealized,
a prelude for room service rewards at any cost,
the final check in,
life's baggage fatigue
wearily carried to an end.

A lobby to somewhere,
accommodating anyone’s journey,
everyone’s imagination,
anybody’s entrance and exit.

Checkout time… anyone's call.