Walk With An Englishman

A friend of mine came to stay, he needed a bed for a night,

From London, England he had travelled on an Easyjet flight,

So when I went out for my walk, he accompanied me part of the way,

And it was blatant that he was not from here, nor was he here to stay,

He was an Englishman through and through and it is that which I want to define,

It was not the way he was dressed or not dressed which was the only tell tale sign,

His tailored trousers and cap to be sure are not to be found on your average Sabra bloke,

And the way he twirled his black umbrella was neither a trick nor was it a joke,

I speak English into my cellphone, but his accent and manner were stronger still,

And it wasn’t that he kept on referring to his map as we walked down a hill,

It wasn’t that his skin was English white, because mine was also not tanned,

It was what was missing that gave the game away that he was from a foreign land,

His face did not bear the stresses, only the proudness which are inseparable in an Israeli’s face,

A visitor he was stamped with partial immunity to the invisible roots tying us to this place.

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One Response to Walk With An Englishman

  1. Beattie Gellert says:

    Very interesting. Mum

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