Here's my contribution to last week's U3A Writers' Group: I actually wrote it years ago, but it feels the same today. Soppy though. Sorry:-
Twisted pain
Far from the English winter sky is my home,
Far from the pale yellow-white morning light,
That glistens and gleams in ice-cold delight,
As hands, feet, and faces feel the first bite.
Far from the softly shimmering summer sun,
Seeping through the dusty lazy haze,
While stark black mills and rolling meadows laze,
In the short sweet season of its warming rays.
Far from the seeping smoky autumn mists,
Gold brown woodlands and spiky shorn fields,
As the wildflower display of the hedgerow yields,
To the promise of soft falling snow.
But this twisted longing has to slip away,
And let Australia feed my dreams today.