In Bluebell Woods

In bluebell woods
Not far from here
A spirit plays
Like childhood years
And frolics through the hazel trees
With gypsy friends and travellers past
We cannot see her, yet with one glance
We might perceive a tent of twigs
Or a fairy ring of toadstools there
To show that she had been this way
And played like once
When her heart was bright
Enjoy the woods, smell the air
Breathe in the spring
And may your spirit ever sing
Of childhood dreams and daisy chains
And golden rod along the lane
Of butterflies on the wing
And memories of your garden swing
I know not when we’ll meet again
But I hope it will be in a woodland glade
In the springtime before the bluebells fade
Jane Frances


Popular posts from this blog


Saint Joanna