"Concourse C"

The strangest creatures pass before my sight;
I watch them from afar, as through a glass,
All hurrying from flight to other flight,
And wonder at their secrets as they pass.

Though camouflaged as one among the crowd,
There's more to me than outlined by my frame;
Do they hold inner thoughts unspoke aloud,
Or feel a kinship that they cannot name?

Had I an outer sign they might discern,
In ears or tail or fur upon the face,
Would apathy to recognition turn,
And stay us from our hurry, to embrace?

How many of us might companions be,
Could we each other's private selves but see?

---

A sonnet, written in an airport.