My poetry got wings, it landed in Edinburgh City
It’s cold, breezy and dark, it’s not, yet, even evening.
Where are these men with tartan skirts?
I want to bag their pipes, they want their bagpipes to be heard.
I want to see the Loch Ness erupt.
From swampy waters, undeterred.
So far it seems quite different, from where my spirit lives.
I’m reminded of this partition, when I need to pay any fees
And when listening to quirky accents, as Scottish people speak.
The modern toppled buildings, reminders of my previous life
Old structures elevate the neck, causing shimmers in the eye.
The novelty of all, that can be absorbed
Is captured by these optic nerves.
Be it windows, doors, graffiti.
Nothing here goes unobserved.
A new city tastes like the freshness
Of coffee smell on a morning rise.
As Nan Sheperd once said: “It’s a grand thing to get leave to live”,
So I’ll follow her advice.
I enjoy my holiday in the land of brave hearts.
Hearing kingfishers sing, as the moon makes her depart.
Edinburgh is a magical city and many birds sing through out the night!