In the hospital's muted hum,
I sit with myself, waiting,
Noticing the faded store sign across,
Letters blurred by time's touch.

People rush past me, unaware,
Their eyes fixed on screens,
While I trace the sign's ghostly outline,
A relic of forgotten days.

The clock ticks in quiet rhythm,
A nurse calls a name,
I remain, a silent observer,
In this space between moments.

The sign whispers stories untold,
Of laughter and loss intertwined,
Here, I find a strange comfort,
Happiness doesn't always mean whole.