Bluebell Woods Poem by Deborah White

Everyone wants to go to Blue Bell Woods
it’s safe and it’s clean and it’s just so very pretty.
Quiet, hushed, not a movement or sound; in this
dreamy, floating, lavender blue, scented flower city.
A moving sapphire blanket as far as the eye can see.
Neatly folded onto a murmuring light summer breeze.

Swaying, shifting, shimmying, and rippling over me.
A myriad of silken blue bells softly touching my hands,
and chiming at my feet; stroking my motionless face.
A calm, tranquil, soothing, heavenly, lavender touch.
I can still remember how I loved it so very much.
Being alone, vanished in this quiet peaceful place.

Lying there flat, still, silent, just gazing up at the skies;
watching a queue of misshapen clouds drifting by.
Bumping and colliding dodging one into the next.
The clouds or the bells, I don’t know which I loved best.
Small hands stretched out, fingers reaching, touching,
holding; the wonderful magic of the moment.

Eyes tight shut then open again, wide with surprise,
As I glance at the buffeting clouds and the tiny bells.
Savouring the sight, the silvery sound, the never-
ending skies; the faintest of fragrant lovely smells.
No-one around only me, a little girl lost in thought;
alone in the perfect enchantment of Blue Bell Woods.

It is late, I really should be going home now for tea,
my mother will be looking for me. For a second I
sit and I wonder could I stay just a little while longer?
If only I could spend one more everlasting moment in
Blue Bell Woods. Then I stir and I remember, I am
grown up now; my little girl will be waiting for me.