By Izza Fartmis
By Izza Fartmis
Morocco World News
El Jadida, Morocco, January 21, 2013
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Upon the busy Sacrifice Day,
On the sofa, for a rest, I lay;
I recalled a day just like today,
When together we flew away.
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Then I flashed back to a trip of our own,
Towards the foggy land, to the unknown;
From here to Lincolnshire then to London.
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I felt it, relived that very day of November;
I saw us active scoots and Larbi our leader;
We left, and in the airport, as i still remember;
I saw us waiting or pausing for a picture.
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In our bags our culture, a reliable witness,
Tea, sugar in loaf, make-up and, I guess,
Cookies we didn’t even have a look at,
Whether “a tiny mouse or a huge rat.”
*****************
There, in the cold foggy land, we set feet,
And before settling down, we stopped to eat.
The rooms were moist, so we could feel;
Yet, the leader claimed our comfort with zeal.
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Then, we went together, all on task,
Moving around to take notes and ask,
Observing, comparing, exchanging values
For connected classes to know and use.
*****************
In London, there was a lot we did enjoy,
To our companions’ cost, so patient, so coy;
Dragging them along, squeezing their legs dry,
We, at last, bade them a warm good-bye.
*****************
Everything was ok so far, nothing to add.
But, to our great surprise, we lost Morad!
Worried like his siblings, his mum and dad
Thinking of “Mokhtafoun,” we nearly got mad.
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Yet, soon our worries faded without delay:
The lost child, as a man, managed his way.
I still remember every second of that day.
*****************
With a smiling face and soaked eyes,
I felt some deep regret, bound to rise,
Not even for my spoiled, costly perfume,
But a trip in my mind taking wide room.
