Sonnet?

Untitled...

The loud conversations, aimless, pointless.
With the longing whine of air-conditioned.
And the babies, shouting, crying, restless,
Met by stranger’s angered stares, maddened!
And in the meantime, what is there to do?
Outside, the nomadic bustle, sleepless;
Like in a beehive, the queen is there, true,
Taken care of, cuddled, affectionless.

Her Majesty, queen of infinite skies,
Above the clouds, ruling with all her might,
But down here, fat, motionless, oversize,
Branded by awkward numbers, impolite!

Down here the airbus Queen is without court,
Among the mayhem of New York airport!