The Last Bluebells

I had to go back.

It wasn't over.

I knew they'd still be there,
Waiting for me,
Those that were left.

Awaiting my arrival with a longing
To have their last moments in the light acknowledged.
To capture a testament to their grace,
A proof of their existence,
Though it had been for only a few fleeting weeks.

And there they were,
Those final fading beauties;
Using up the very last of their being 

To be glimpsed
Through the new and the strong,
The fresh and the bright,

Before a final oblivion of thorn and shade.

They are not lost,

Those few that lingered,

They are not forgotten,

For in their beauty they will be remembered,

While their image remains.

And long after

They will be waiting for me,

In my dreams.

For it wasn't over.

I had to go back.

The Last Bluebells

© Nicola Wemyss 

23rd May 2015