longing for empire

the brittle English sun can't warm the bones
it strikes the Earth through too  much atmosphere
what would be normal in sub-tropic zones
obliquely glances off the surface there
the Summers flitter past in Time's swift stream
like youths denying they'll one day grow old
but harvest season snaps us from the dream
we wake to find reality is cold
Brits flee for New Years to the Turkish shore
when snowflakes shroud the gardens of Hyde Park
to shed the bulky Winter garb they wore
when trudging home from work through rain and dark
but holidays must end and seasons turn
and Brits bring home their souvenir sunburn