Roy Ernest Ballard

Bluebell Wood - Poem by Roy Ernest Ballard

Between the oaks and through the briars
and underneath the sycamores
the bluebells run like spirit fires,
inflaming on the leafy floors;
besetting lovers hotly yearning,
lying where the fire is burning.
Burning, burning all aflame
with a fire they cannot tame.

Nettles grow near Bluebell Wood
and rafters rot beside a wall
where other lovers came and stood
their names and faces past recall;
leaves and mould to nettles turning.
Turning, turning fallen petals,
unremembered, turn to nettles.

It's time that damps the lovers' flame,
impatient time that cannot stay
to learn a solitary name
but lets all passing pass away.
Blinkered time! But love is ranging
ever further, ever changing.
Changing, changing as we lie,
changing into love gone by.

Topic(s) of this poem: love

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 22, 2015

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