Feeling Blue

It only stays a week or two
The magic carpet of brilliant blue
An annual treat in April/May
As nature takes your breath away.

In twenty three, ‘twas running late
A savage winter had made us wait
But nonetheless worth waiting for
The English Bluebells like years before.

I had to see them if I could
So went a walking in old Hitch Wood
I felt I must consume the view
Through a lens of that special hue.

Each perfect bluebell standing proud
There on parade, a massive crowd
All without equal, always true
A majestic cloak of violet-blue.