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.