Poetry: Bluebell

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Come down to the beck!
Where the wildflowers grow,
Where the water is warm
And tickles our toes;
I will be lilac;
You can be blue,
Like the bluebells that sing
In the sweet morning dew;
We’ll hide in the oak,
Wait for fae to pass by
As the stories we’ve heard
Say they’re timid and shy;
The whole spring day play
From dawn until night,
‘Til the lambent, full moon
Rises up like a kite;
‘Til the bluebells glow warm
In the soft evening haze,
And our fae friends retreat
To their petal-pronged maze;
Come down to the beck!
And spend all day with me,
For we’re best friends and sisters –
Two buds from one tree.
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