When it was finally time to board, we found ourselves on a small plane, much like the one we’d taken from Springfield to Chicago—only this one was emblazoned with a shamrock and the airline name Aer Lingus. Upon boarding the captain announced his name as Seamus O’Connor.
Well. That turned very Irish very quickly.
Another takeoff, more flying. By now I was in some kind of trance or limbo. This was my lot now, to be forever stuck in transit, always hopping from one airport to another amid days and nights that didn’t match my body’s internal clock. I was so tired…so tired.

Farewell
Farewell to all, near or far,
Sleeping or awake,
To critters here or creatures there,
And even to the snake.
Farewell, my dears, for I must go
To my home to stay,
Remember me, I’ll wave goodbye
And now God Bless I say!

Chai Tea
My tea is hot, it’s good to drink,
I think you’d like it, too.
It is Chai Tea and it’s the best,
And love it? Yes I do!

I'm in the mood to experiment.

Uh-oh--right as I'm making my morning tea, too.

I shouldn't, I know, but yes, here it comes:

that feeling, that urge, that I just can't resist;

that enticing little voice that says "Just try it!"

The teapot shrieks and I'm helpless to fight it.

Here I go, once again, to "try it!"

So out comes the teacup from China;

in goes the teabag, steeping it strong;

in goes a good dash of nutmeg,

 and two big drops of lemon extract;

Oh dear! it hasn't let up, that feeling,

 When bedtime comes 'round, I am filled up with dread. 
I’ve monsters, MONSTERS, under my bed!
They're angry, they're hungry, they drool, and they shed!
I’ve monsters down there an' they all want me dead!
My mum says good night; I am tucked snugly in.
I lie in the dark with the sheets to my chin.
I hear them! They're stirring! They mutter and growl!
They smack and they slobber, they moan and they yowl!
"We're hungry!" They bellow, "It's time for a meal!"
I hug my stuffed teddy. "Don't eat me!" I squeal.

tea-strings all tied up
on my fingertips, leading somewhere
airplanes all high up
above the runway strips, heading somewhere
I told you it doesn't have to be this way
it was just a feeling

tea-string all tied up
I can't remember
what to remember

airplanes all high up
against the palm backdrop;
should I remember?

tea-strings now tether us
by our fingertips, knit us together
airplanes won't take us
we're stuck on runway strips, knit tight together

This is just a light-hearted poem I wrote a couple of years ago. It actually took me almost two years to finish. And no, I don't really have a cousin named Alexandra.

Upon that day so deep in spring,
Grandmother instructed me to bring
Myself and sister up for tea,
To greet her well-bred company:
Our cousin Alexandra.

One who, despite her stately air,
Oft' preferred a foreign flair
And few, if any, understood
Her sort of whimsical girlhood,
Fair cousin Alexandra.