Blue Flax Poem by Tom Billsborough

After many years
A single flower reappears.
I don't know why.
Blue flax, its pale eye
Peering up at me,
From its thin, precarious perch
At the lawn's right edge.
Its green lids close at Eve
Awaiting tomorrow.
Blue flax, holds out its cup
For Pixies sipping nectar.
Maybe it was her,
The Lady of those magical dreams,
Who conjured this up for me,
Coming again in the same year.
I used to look in wonder
At its large and highly
Polished brown seeds,
And the smell of linseed oil.
I used to wonder too
How such thin stems created
From its long fibres
Those Linen shirts
So cool in summer.
But mostly, blue flax,
I think of those Pixies,
Sipping nectar!