Poetry: Bluebell

On friendship, sisterhood, and imagination

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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