Bluebell Walk Poem by Mary Champion

I walk among the spring-green trees,
a mass of bluebells at my feet,
and think that if you walked with me
my famished soul would be replete.
The air is sweet with hyacinth
and filled with birdsong melody.
How perfect would this morn become
if only you could walk with me.

The bluebell speaks of constancy,
it promises eternal love,
so in its great profusion here
‘twill surely grant what I dream of.
Dismissing superstitious tales,
my reason mocks my childish heart,
it bids me face the painful truth -
our love was fated from the start.

Yet bluebells' heady scent denies
the triumph of pragmatic gloom,
with promises of dreams come true
and in this peaceful, fragrant combe
I sense a presence dear to me,
I feel a hand take mine in his
and then I know the day will come
when we can share our perfect bliss.