Blue bell Memory

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Dancing to natures tune

moving their pale lilac heads. 

Liken to a tingling of a bell.

The heavy scented aroma invites 

and entices you to possess.

I kneel down, pull the sticky stems

out of mother earth, they slide

in to my hands, bunches of them

lay like a baby across my arms.

Their pretty heads tickle my downy hair.

I hurry home with my gift of plenty

to give to my mam.

She will put them in the jam tar,

that has been idle since blackberry picking in the autumn.

I sniff the jar, the sweet fruity scent still lingers.

Now green stems stand with their purple heads

drooping in their sadness.

For they have been taken from

their habitat and put in to mine.

Julie Pritchard May 2013

 

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