I have no face

 

I have no face
I’m just a number
Where is my place
In Britain‘s Brexit blunder?
I want to go home
But where do I belong?
I came in the 90s from a country
That does no longer exist
It went to be united
With the part that was not communist
Is home by the Baltic Sea
Or in the mountains
Where I love to ski?
Or is it on an island out west
Where Gaelic put my English to the test?
I was welcomed there
Young and green
To live and work in Scotland
I was very keen
I loved to ceilidh dance
That and hill walking led to romance
25 years on and 3 children later
I am still here
And felt I belong
But obviously I was wrong 
Thought I was so smart
When I received my residency card
Had given the details of
22 years of whereabouts
Of when I was in the country and out
Only to come back from a week away
To find I have 3 days to say
Here is more proof
That in this country was my roof
I the 5 years past-
I really am aghast!
The process is set to achieve
That Europeans give up and leave
After paying 2000 pound
Which often can not easily be found
I am just a number
I have no name
The sad thing is
For many ‚vote leave‘ was just a game