Dreaming of Bluebells

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I dream about being in a bluebell woodland,

Morning’s dampness on my hands.

I find a torn seam in elemental’s veil;

Ask to enter the precious trail.

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Bare toes tickling on grassy moss, 

Nose wrinkling as plumes of bluebells waft;

Lost in a deep purple blue lake,

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Looking at the shapes the old oak makes,

Their wizened branches seeking light,

Orange tip butterflies flee with all their might!

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Woodland’s serenade fades gently like a breeze;

I take a sip of Titania’s tea,

Finding myself mixing a pool of morning dew

With soothing dainty hues from the bluebell wood

on my watercolour palette ready for a new painting to emerge.

13 thoughts on “Dreaming of Bluebells”

  1. Such a beautiful post…Since early childhood when I grew up in Kent surrounded by bluebell woods I have loved these places. The sense are fed in full…..and I always emerge feeling with a great sense of serenity. Thank you so much – Janet 🙂

    • Hi Sue. Thank you. The bluebell woods particularly only English bluebell woods are so so special and I love the old trees, celendines and mosses. I noticed quite a few fallen trees, some from old age but others from storm damage. I hope you are well and enjoying your walks. 🙂 🙂 xx

  5. This is soooo utterly gorgeous!! ❤ ❤ ❤ Love the poetry and the photo so much ❤ What a treat this post was! 🙂

    • Thanks Trini. I felt so inspired walking in such a magical special ancient woodland, just full of English Bluebells. Their aroma was intoxicating and we were the only people there. I’m glad that my post was a lovely treat! Lol 🙂 🙂 xx

    • Thank you Olga. I could feel the natural energies in the woodland, it was amazing. I’m so glad you lost yourself in my bluebell heaven, going through the elemental’s torn seam. 🙂

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