I mistook you for gone, but ho! Hello!
My eye awakes at raw clock’s one-nineteen.
There’s not much at this time -- the world’s mellow --
to do but stare at my computer screen.
My friends in USA do wake, ‘tis true,
but them, it seems, for now, I must forget.
For lacking rhyme and rhythm, height and hue,
I also have no wireless internet.
So back it is for me to the old ways:
before you, Jet Lag, I farewell may bid,
I rummage through my bag, on Shakespeare gaze,
and also through the writings of Ovid.
But now, with this poem writ and these books read,
away you go, and I back to my bed.