Walking out on the first
blue day in weeks I was struck
by how banal I’d made my life.
Red brick shone out, couples
huddled together, planning for Christmas
and the days and months
Above me, faint lines
split skies. I wonder where they lead.
It’s all much the same
I suppose, waiting for
I used to take walks in Vienna on Sundays.
Go to churches, a few scarved women and stained glass.
White statues of gods dotted buildings,
plastic remnants of empire.
And sometimes there was mist,
or perhaps snow.
At four or five there’d be coffee and white wine and cake,
a book to read with beer after. Thoughts.
I forget to do the things I enjoy.
Kishon McGuire is an undergraduate student at the University of Glasgow, studying English and Scottish Literature. He lives in Glasgow and has previously spent four years living in Morocco, the Netherlands and Turkey. He writes poems and short stories in his spare time.