Delay

Airport time is not real time at all
Suspended as we are, clocks do not strike
The sands float in the glass and do not fall.
As in the moment between hut and hike
We start but falsely, circling our hands
In futile hope of someday moving on
But til the plane that we all wait for lands
Reality around us is all gone.
We while the hours away secure and bored
Pretending an excitement no one feels
To fly, as if the very airport soared.
But here instead we sit, cooling our heels
Waiting for who knows, unmoved and drear,
Unaging, uneventful, and yet here.