Majesty of Decay

you pedal home in high gear passing butterflies and broken glass from long gone stolen cars wild flowers spreading muggy scents as posters peel from dirty pavements a young boy offers his mother a beautiful weed the meekness in the blossom and the majesty of decay making you believe that anything could come to pass this very day tired tulips bent in sleep a hint of decomposing heaps of something dank and dark the mesmerising to and fro the vibrant pulse of kelvingrove a young boy offers his mother a beautiful weed the meekness in the blossom