Dock number and sailing time  –not to be missed

No one familiar to ask in my midst-

Warnings of pickpockets fresh on my mind,

Guarding my purse and yet acting kind.

 

Talking to strangers in gestures and nods

Repeating words louder; feels rather odd

Seeking directions back to the ship

Full extent of my ambassadorship

 

Guides cramming hundreds of years

Europe’s whole history into my ears.

Each of their towns is best so they say

Leading and touting their sites all day.

 

Walking on cobblestones, holding my own,

Over 3 miles daily with hardly a groan.

Justifying sweets more than once each day

Followed by wine—keeping germs far away.

 

Spending down Euros

No Forint’s for change

Only Hungary will take them

In an unfair exchange.

 

I’ve worn all my clothes

Some of them twice

They will do your laundry

At a ridiculous price

 

Coughing and hacking

Clogged in two ears

Not my first choice

Of trip souvenirs

 

Nail polish chipped, toenails to clip,

It must be time to go home.

Lilly Kauffman is a non-fiction writer who was privileged to work as both librarian and a teacher. Her essays, whether serious or humorous, capture the experiences that allow us to laugh and grieve. Family and faith inform her writings. She is currently working on several book projects: A Mother Grieves in Ink, Ampersand, and Lil Letters.