The Bus Stop on Grace Avenue.

My car wouldn’t start one quiet elysian morning.
I almost broke my toe kicking the tyres.
But it refused to start so I had to catch the Bus.
I didn’t see it as a sign at the time but it certainly was.

The bus stop on Grace Avenue is old and run down.
The council promised to repair and maintain it,
But I guess Governments make promises they can’t keep.

There only other person at the stop was an old Lady.
She was very elegantly dressed in blue, with a veil over her face.
I wished her good morning and sat down.

After an awkward silence she began speaking in a familiar voice.
“Do you know what beauty is?” she asked softly.

I didn’t answer straight away. It was such an odd question.
After a while I told her I thought beauty was the Sun going down.

“Look close at the butterfly’s wings.
There is beauty in the simplest things.
The most beautiful thing I ever saw,
Was your blues eyes when you were born.
To see you now grown so tall.
There is beauty in everything, son.”

The bus arrived and I looked for the lady but she was gone.
I felt so strange I went home,
And stared at the photograph of my Mother who had passed away.
I went into the garden and for the first time,
I notice how beautiful the petals of a flower really are.