Scotland

There's an image of Scotland I have.
Of rolling plains scattered with cows and sheep.
Of mountains intersecting the valleys of the highlands.
Of a boy, age 16, walking home from school, tie loosened,
his best mates on either side and Irn Bru in hand.
Of white haired ladies at bus stops asking where you're from
and sitting down for tea time at family owned cafes.
Of a pride for tartan and scotch and Sean Connery.
Of unabashed humour, matter of fact conversation,
and hand rolled cigarettes stuffed into denim jackets on the North Bridge.
Of crowds of people on Princess Street holding bags overflowing with Primark clothes.
Of the Royal Mile at midnight, loud and fun and busy.
Of a mosaic of single images that when put together fit side by side into the shape of a country...
That's the image of Scotland I have.