In England there are mountains green
More old stone buildings than I’ve ever seen
There are city streets, and punks, and beer
(Those oft have caused me to shed a tear)
I don’t regret my month spent here
But…
I wonder if it’s worth it all
To skip Pennsylvania in the fall
I miss the leaves
I miss the cows
I know they are all still there now
And I will be home in December
But…
The cold frost of England nips and bites
It leaves us with illnesses to fight
And there is no gobbling turkey here
No smooth transition to Christmas cheer
Only Santa in October on the High Street
So here I sit and whine some more
Instead of contributing to the store
Of homework
I will try to blog some happy travel facts
To counteract
This terrible poem
And my overbearing impatience
To come home.
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