I
A plane touches down
And safely carries you to a land
less crowded than London’s bustling streets.
Foreign, warmer climates
That sufficiently cater for wine and feasts.
Land that carries blood through its Black River,
Excuses to not swim in Summer’s heat.
A southern tip that travellers will visit and disparage
A separation of two cultures
As if history teaches nothing
And geography misplaces some from another
II
A plane touches down
And safely carries me to a land
I call home. Where surroundings are
less crowded than London’s bustling streets.
Where old friends gather
To celebrate all those returning home.
The pubs more filled than churches.
Worshippers huddle under a heater,
Hands clasping a pint of black.
A separation of two cultures
once again this year’s Christmas dinner discussion.
As if history teaches nothing
And geography misplaces some from another.
But today, we count ourselves lucky
To sit here as one family.