Kind of Wordsworthian poem about leaving my mission almost 14 months ago

I sat on a plane, not alone but lonely
Leaving my home for my homeland
But then, I glanced out the window
And saw my town

Zelenograd
The Green City

And instead of being seatbelted down and trapped
I was throwing golden brown leaves,
Wading through knee-high waves of snow,
Running up Monument's hill
And exploring the old cemetery in the forest.
Walking along the glistening lakes.
Feeling the frozen air in my nose
While simultaneously basking in the warm flowers
Of a long winter's end.

I saw all four seasons
And dear people and happiness
Through that little window

And although I was on that plane
My heart was in Moscow
And I sobbed in sorrow and in joy.