A Layover

Have left from somewhere,

And yet to reach anywhere.

There's this pause, however,

In between those places.

From where I have left,

To where I am going.

What if,

This pause, 

is where I need to be?

A layover,

In between places.

Where I am not known, 

but can be.

Not seen, and yet seen.

A layover,

Where I can just sit by the side,

Watching lives being lived,

And loved.

Coffees being sipped,

Books being read,

Phones scrolled through.

Some distant laughter and chatter,

A few kids laughing and running around,

A bunch of others crying,

and being consoled,

Folks sleeping on the chairs,

Others looking around,

Just as I do.

A layover,

Where I can let the sadness 

of what, and who, I left behind, 

sink in, and be one,

with the excitement 

of who I may meet 

and what I do next.

Where this sadness,

Or excitement,

Can just be, and be seen,

Finding an endearing space,

As does the airport coffee, 

In my heart, and my body.

A layover, 

not just between flights,

But also of the time 

I am leaving behind,

To whatever may 

come next.