Terminal 4 lies at the end of the hall.
The approaching sign suggests the end,
the point of departure
and a time to say goodbye.
I begged you not to go,
but the choice was not yours.
Some things, it is said
Will always be beyond your control
Regardless of will or strength
I see your legs tremble with fatigue,
as florescent lights fight the emerging darkness.
Through the vestibule you walk alone
though I am right beside you.
A spiral of regret and reminiscence
lie buried just beneath my eyes,
as I try in vain to comfort you.
The cyclone within only emerges
when restrained tears trickle past
your distorted reflection as you turn away.
A departure from stone
from earth and water,
flesh and blood.
I watch you as your image,
fades against a crimson blue sky.
Fluttering through the air,
beyond my scope
I must gesture my fair well.