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Icicles on bicycles, frozen spiderwebs on flowerbeds;
it’s spring now, but the snow just doesn’t want to go.
Children are enraptured in the joy of playing outside,
building snowmen, and having snowball fights;
eager travellers, who want to jet-off to warmer climates,
are checking-in at their airport arrivals desk
and finding out that their departure from winter England
may be delayed, or sadly one of the unfortunate “Cancelled Flights”.

The weather is the topic of almost every-other conversation-
some people are embracing it for pleasure,
some people are venturing out at the cost of their own lives,
some people are saying that they “have had enough”;
while other people make the most of the snow-
the way it falls like sprinkled sugar on a bowl of cereals,
the way it lies so beautifully on the ground,
the way it records the momentary paths of passersby,
animals, birds foraging for food-
some try to go as fast as they can,
while others just take it slow.

The wind blows the snow like dust;
the world looks like another planet;
on every window there is a thick white frost;
every pavement, every road, is covered so overwhelmingly,
and the snow is so compacted it is as hard granite.
People live in a perpetual ice-life everyday somewhere on Earth,
and they carry on regardless;
we here in the UK always say that we are prepared
for all weather eventualities,
but when weather like the cold-front
that has been visiting us recently, and testing out tolerance, comes,
we are always left dazed for days,
we always struggle to adapt-
some reach their peak, and some surpass their peak,
of being overcome with debilitating levels of stress.
I, on the other hand, take every step in my stride
and I treat every footprint in the snow
as if it were one small step on the moon.
I will always have great memories of my time growing up:
playing in the snow with my sister,
remembering my Dad taking my sister and me
for a sledge-ride to the shops near our home-
magical memories that take my breath away
and rise like hot air inside of a balloon.

The temperature is rising,
the sky is turning blue,
the snow is melting,
the wishes of millions are coming true.
The snow is returning to from whence it came;
people thinking about their commute to work tomorrow
breath a sigh of relief-
until the weather presenter on the TV says that
snow may fall again during the night,
and that “there may be a chance of some rain”.

Spring is here, Summer will arrive before we know it,
and I think I can safely say that the climate of Earth
and the seasons of nature are changing,
and we must all change, adapt, and be prepared for everything-
because, who knows what is waiting in the wings to arrive,
who knows what the winds of uncertainty will bring.

As the sun rose over the fields of England,
I looked down on my home from a green hilltop high above
and I felt breathless, as I took in the view
of this peaceful and tranquil wonderland.

As far as my eyes could see, all that greeted me
was infinite hues of gold, green, blue, and white-
trees, farmland- apparent, and hidden life,
going on far beyond my sight.

I am by myself, but I do not feel alone-
this place is where poetry is seen and written about,
this place, this island of diversity and beauty, in all its forms,
is the place that I am proud to call my home.

I love my home, because it is everything to everyone-
it always has been this beacon for so many people over the years,
no matter where they have come from.

I love my home, because not only is it a beautiful
and an inspiring place to live;
but it is also somewhere that you can discover and rediscover,
it is a place with a heart and a spirit of its own,
it is a place that you can grow with.

Even though I have lived here my entire life,
I have not seen, and I do not know, everything about my country-
every new village, town, and city,
has a rich and a varied identity and history;
every person that you speak to for the first time,
only adds to our country’s charm, allure, magic, and mystery.

From above, England looks green, alive, thriving-
even in the majestic cities, that light-up the country from street to sky,
there is somewhere for everyone:
whether you want excitement, enlightenment, inspiration,
or just somewhere that you can take in as you roam-
England is the best country on the planet,
England is where I will always return to,
and it will always be my home.

I am really going to miss this place.
This island has been my home for almost a week,
but now it is time for me to leave,
now it is time for me to return to England
with renewed inspiration, and new questions and new truths,
that I now cherish and seek.

Walking on the beach for the last time this morning,
I felt so sad to say goodbye to the sea, the sand, the air,
and to the beautiful sunlight and perfect sky
that greeted me at every dawning.

I have made so many amazing, wonderful, and incredible memories
since I first arrived here, unpacked my case,
through my bag over my shoulder, and set-out to explore-
everyday the wonders of this beautiful island
have awoken me with peace and tranquility,
and has seen me fall asleep with memories
and recollections of the day before
that took me to sleep feeling more alive than ever,
feeling more inspired than ever,
feeling more hope than ever before,
and spellbound with awe.

Leaving Jersey, watching the ground disappear below my feet,
rising into the clouds, into the evening sun-
unable to move, completely stuck to my seat.
The feeling of take-off,
I can only describe as like feeling the wonder and the magic
that you feel when you are a child-
when the world seems infinite, incredible, indescribable, and wild.
Watching the island disappear behind me,
I feel so sad to leave it;
but knowing what effect it has had on me,
makes me feel like a newly-inspired, enlivened, and brand new poet.

Seeing the coast of Great Britain again,
seeing my country, the island of my birth from the air,
fills my heart like an intake of breath,
makes me feel light-headed, glad to be home, as if I hadn’t left.

Landing on home-soil, through the golden haze of dusk,
time feels as if it has frozen before me,
and I have to question which senses that I should trust.

Taking my first step back in England,
looking up at the blue, red, and golden clouded sky,
I attempt to describe the beauty that I am seeing in my mind,
but the words that I find fail me at every try.

Returning home, everything seems different
and yet the same- just like me.
I want to go back soon;
but for now, my dreams will be enough
to return me every night
to the place that has me under its spell:
the beautiful island of Jersey.

There is no other time of the year as energizing as right now,
there is no other season like Summer to take your breath away,
engulf you, and make you go wow!
There is no other time of your childhood
that you look back on more and reminisce,
there is no other feeling as comparable as that of Summer’s kiss.

The wind is sparing, the air is close-
the pavements are simmering with so much heat
you could almost make toast!
The streets are like greenhouses,
capturing and funneling the days heat between every building-
almost turning ponds into baths, and fountains into hot-springs.

No matter the heat,
no temperature can dwell the glee of the young!
The joyful cries of children playing in the street
is like the song of the sun, a rhyme for all-time,
that can only be heard from the lips of the innocents tongue.

The smells in the air are always exquisite-
from the aroma of a barbecue, to the scent of a floral perfume;
the taste of food is heightened-
from the strawberries that we eat,
to the ice cream that we consume.

Tennis is on TV, the music festivals are in full-swing
and attract and unite thousands en masse-
everyone wants to be part of the enthusiasm of the here and now,
because they know that it will be gone in a flash.

No British summer would ever be the same
if, along with the gorgeous sunshine,
we didn’t get a shower or two of the great British rain;
but after a long and sticky day
sometimes there can be nothing else more welcome,
and the distinctive smell in the air that follows
always invigorates and stops you from feeling glum.

Summertime is a glorious spell
that enchants me every year without fail, I have to confess-
never do I long for any other days
than for the warm and beautiful embraces of Summers magical caress.

Great Britain, the United Kingdom, England, my home forever more-
the country of my birth, and the country I will forever adore-
in my opinion, is, and will always be
the greatest country in the world: a beacon of the best entertainment, culture, literature, and, of course, poetry.

What makes Great Britain truly “Great”, to me, is that we are a nation of the many-
we are united in the pursuit of understanding, and in having respect for every Pound and ever penny.

The island of my genesis is a spectrum of colour, taste, sound, and sensation-
a country, a people of determination, inspiration, fortitude, and aspiration.

Although English is our primary language, we embrace and champion a rich confluence of different linguistics and dialects-
which can be seen in every city, TV program, and even in the way we write, email, and text.

To me, Great Britain is the most beautiful, the most magical, the most invaluable jewel in the crown of the world-
and I am always heartened in that belief every time I see the Union Flag being unfurled.

The white light of our beautiful, green, proud, and wonderful island will never go out, or diminish;
the United Kingdom and its people will endure for all eternity-
and that is why I am proud to be British.

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