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