The Bluebell

What’s it all about then, this pretty little belle.
That draws me time again, with its intoxicating smell.

Year upon the year, she calls me down the hill.
With such an elegant stem, an amazing indigo thrill.

Here I am accepted, alone with enchanted beauty.
Where pigeons coo softly, squirrels go about their duty.

Deep within the speckled wood, where sun and shade are one.
My inner-sense with me, of peace, of calm, of fun.

So graceful and so innocent, so fantastic yet so bashful.
I come with empty purse, I leave with brimming cash full.

No real price to pay, for time spent with such finery.
The heart is filled with love, fundamental as life’s binary.

Here the pace of life just rests, as unassuming deer stop by.
The sheer presence of which, just makes me want to cry.

For doe and bloom, are both similar and the same.
A dream to be in proximity, of early springtime fame.

There’s no place I’d rather be, than next to one so cute.
Where all the world feels one, beyond all possible refute.

My body sinks below, my pulse now hits ground zero.
If confidence was down, it’s now built up again to hero.

So astonishing it is, to witness such a view.
Of sea, of tributary, everything azure and blue.

I treasure her so much, for just a tiny glimpse.
This April, May occurrence, such majesty, such brilliance.

​By Simon Blackler
Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 

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