Unremarked On Maps

As evening steals quietly over Edinburgh
And lights come on in eighteenth century rooms
Intimate portraits appear in windows
Dusk thickens in the streets and lamps begin to glow
And imperceptibly a feeling of melancholy comes
Uninvited and unbidden on soft stockinged feet
In delicate tones of violet and indigo.

Or sometimes at the seaside on a dull winter’s day
Distant houses blurred with rain and the sea cold and grey
Holiday makers gone and boarding houses shut
Gulls crying sadly and the tide far out
On such empty and desolate days
Something other peeps out shily – or does it?
Uncertainly hanging somewhere in the haze

And sometimes in a caravan rain beating on the roof you feel
 A gust of happiness, a moment of being that escapes the real
Or sometimes visiting a house you sense people were happy here
Voices from the past so distant that they hardly register
As if singing angels were caught faintly on the air

Triangulations of emptiness unremarked on maps
In some old orchard or forgotten estuary perhaps

Nebulous emissions from the interstices of things
Whispering perhaps we don’t exist before they disappear. 


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