The Great Joy Of Getting Lost

man looking at the Scott monument in Edinburgh

Everything New Is Around The Next Corner

I have never walked

down this street before,

and this pavement beats my feet,

and then it beats some more.

All at once I spy,

several stories high,

something new that I

have never ever seen before.

This is so

not the street

where I live.

These great chestnut trees

in this part of town

that the children and the vagrants

like to lark around,

so enchanting and beguiling

like a fairy ground.

This is so

not the street

where I live.

Overpowered with feeling,

I just laugh out loud,

and the people stop and stare

and they make a crowd.

They don’t bother me.

I will give them mirth.

I would rather be

nowhere else on earth.

This is so

not the street

where I live.

And the Meadows Link

to the other lands,

to the Walker drinks,

left of Arthur’s hand,

through a Royal Mile

past the wholly rude

to the ancient pile

by the Lady Wynd.

This is so

not the street

where I live.

This is somewhere else,

a place to get

wondrously

lost in.


With apologies to Alan Jay Lerner / Frederick Loewe / Robert Mersey

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