David Wood (07 April 1950 / London)
Bluebells carpet the woodland floor
Packed so tightly that insects tip-toe
Softly and quietly between them.
Their beauty unlocks a woodland door
With such colour of delicate blue,
And a fragrance that is heaven sent.
They droop their heads in the spring rain,
With their beauty making all things new.
Their magic weaves a pleasant spell
A sea of blue that meanders in the breeze
And floats delicately over the forest floor,
Their fragrance creates a delicate smell.
Nature now has all its beauty brought
To the fore before summer casts its spell
Delicate bluebells making spring so fine
Their time on earth far too short.
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