A man’s life is an airport hall,
Footsteps echo, voices call—
He enters young, eyes wide with flight,
Dreams like luggage held tight and light.
Crowds sweep past, some stay, some go,
Faces he’ll meet, but never know.
Delays and gates, arrivals, ends,
Some journeys lost, some found as friends.
He watches planes and wonders when
He’ll leave, return—or not again.
Each concourse full, Yet lone he stands,
Time stamped like tickets in his hands.
And when last boarding call is near,
He walks with peace, not doubt or fear.
For life, like terminals, must part—
But leaves a runway in the heart.
I’d like to hear from you.
I’m Yours Truly
Andrew A Lloyds Adeleke
You can contact me
