Expatriate

I scan the skies as vapor sails,
made wide by distance, destinations
guessed at, criss-cross trails
of global peregrinations;
two of thousands flying high
'til touchdown, from a roaring to a sigh. 

Time and separation matter not,
our spirits meld where'er we land,
cities mysterious and grand,
we simmer in a melting pot.
In early years we settled down,
Republic versus Queen and Crown,
three thousand miles, an ocean's span
of redefining can't and can. 

An innocent, so far abroad,
an interstitial, like a fraud,
forever seeks the real me
while clinging to your constancy;
expatriate, with memories of
England dear, the land I love.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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Mcclain Avatar
April 19, 2016 at 3:26 PM
Hey Keith, Wow, great stuff. I lived 4 yrs in China and 4 more in Ecuador, so I know the feeling, which you have captured very well.. "An innocent, so far abroad, an interstitial, like a fraud, forever seeks the real me" That really sums up the existential angst of it all. Nice! Cheers, Brian
Bickerstaffe Avatar
April 19, 2016 at 3:32 PM
I'm so glad you can connect with what I'm trying to say... that line really says it all. Thanks for noticing and quoting it. Many thanks my friend. Cheers, Keith
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