What I hate and like in Britain.

Cold,  cold  and puffs of  cold  

 and smoke   which  I deter,

let  them  go  as tizzy    lather.

But , Britain’s language  and Literature

My ambition, my  Love , degree    and  Life’s   nurture,

The  white   Doves   and  chirping   birds,

Potential  , innumerable   take   off 

and   landing  planes,  make  you

wonder  how  small  we are

before  Nature’s Flight.

The  coffee  aroma , takes

You   far off  the  boundary

For   writing   verse.

England’s pride   is its 

Treasure  of poetry

Which  I cherish 

Unto  my  last  Breath.