Our Tale is What Remains.

A walk with the people like you.

We move in-between the green, 

the green and dandelions on a quiet corner of a Paisley route.

Route, control and space.

We quickly walk, red brick, red brick to Sma Shot Lane. 

Past the Jesus is the reader sign and the weavers’ lion statue.

A stroll towards the New street.  

We stop and look up. I’m not sure about the cherubs.

Quick, march past Mr Kebab and the vertical lines of The Russell Institute.

The God of medicine twisting an enchanting tale… 

We pass a shopping trolley, coffee shop and an empty store.

An empty space with an empty corporation. 

I look for a sign, a blue Yes2 and a bus stop zone 

We arrive at the abbey, governed by order.

Move quietly and be considerate.

A timeline of happening from 1163, tick, tick, tick…

We hear about the monks who have been cleaning up for 400 years.

Dusting and washing tired feet. It’s time to leave.

Hello to Bonnie Fleurs and the High Street.

We wait at the curb for the red man to turn green.

The pace of the pack slows into the historic town. 

A voice cries “Before you go, remember, look up and search for Paisley pigeons.” 

We listen to the sound of the bird’s wings until…

our tale is what remains.

© Olsen 2019

This poem was created in response to a walking tour around Paisley in Scotland. The Tour was led by Dr. Alison McCandlish as a part of the ‘Participatory Methods and Affective Domains: Walking, Documenting and Sensing as Practice course delivered by the University of West Scotland.