Airport Interlude

Seated and strapped,

eyes fixed ahead.

I exhale

a quiet goodbye.

Eight hours later—

white hair,

familiar strangers.

A shared smile.

Again we meet,

another terminal.

Too tired to sleep,

we trade stories

of where we’ve been.

An airport interlude—

waiting together,

no longer strangers.

Arrival comes.

Loved ones gather.

We move toward baggage,

collect what’s ours.

The white hair approaches.

Introductions follow.

A brief weaving—

then release.

An airport interlude:

long enough

to matter.