In corridors of endless toil, he stood, Years ticking past like rust on ancient beams, Leadership carved with heart and sweat and wood— A sentinel of others' hopes and dreams. Three decades on the clock, now deemed excess, His laughter echoes, soft, through empty halls. A hard worker, who'd rarely take recess, Now packs his legacy in cardboard walls. Yet humor lights his eyes, a timeless spark, For jokes of fate, he always had the knack; In his own way, still leading, leaves his mark— A laughing shadow that no cut can sack.