A haiku or something similar to it.

When I stood there with two heavy suitcases in my two limbs,
the airport door opened itself upon my sensation.
The breeze splashed on my face the sweet smell of coffee beans,
I knew it was a world unseen but not unheard of.

Frowned faces by some, raised eyebrows by some more
"The Great, Old English Empire had me waiting to saunter on its soil"
and when I declared the same to those 'some & some more' back home,
those were the expressions that greeted me with unrequited hostility.

I took the chance like a fish took to water
with a seemingly giant hope that oughtn't falter.

The entry happened with no predetermined date of exit.
It's only the bouts of hope for a better future coupled with merciless English winds that drove me.

I did not know what was in store for me;
for I was a naif at life filled with post-teenage looniness.
One thing was for sure that it marked a new journey
on which I embarked with unconditional love perpetuated by the loneliness.

Now it all goes down from the racks of my brain into the stomach
with aging memorabilia in my sight.
That surge of anxiety entwined with curiosity seems so alien now;
for aging is not just for things but for their creators as well
And that is why art suffers a crushing death as their artists disappear.