Foundling Vibes

An empty photograph in my hand, the lens pointed at a monument - but too low, the horizon too high in the frame, the monument barely visible, the composition too empty,
 
no focus, 
no sound, 
no rhythm.
 
An old handbook of the city, 
Its pages coloured in, 
Some illegible hand,
Scribbled in the margins,
Tales of a yesterplace, long since lost.

Graffiti in a bathroom stall,
Hampstead Heath circled,
King’s Road marked,
Soho skewered with an arrow.
In the blank spaces, 
Memories, landscapes of                ,
Imagined,