My favourite kind of beauty

I went for a walk yesterday and everywhere I looked was beautiful. Aged, decaying, and run down - my favourite kind of beauty. The light was from the past and the golden leaves, the old doors, cobbles, and wynds were singing to me. The pavements held me, and the sound of the trees in the wind cushioned my steps. 

We are holding you. We are here for you. We are with you now. 

I looked up to the sky, I looked down at my feet, step after step. I looked at the light and breathed - looked into the wind and felt, looked up again into the trees and tears met my eyes.

I hear the small birds in the morning now, not the seagulls. The swans and signets have done themselves proud, their family intact and almost grown as they glide along the water in the sun. 

I congratulate them. 

I walk on, and the leaves glisten in the water. I snap a picture. 

We are holding you. We are here for you. We are with you now.