Monday, 10 August 2009


My daughter gave me a present today.
Bunched in her pink hands
so tight the tips of her nails pursed white.
She offered them to me,
face obscured by the bells;
tiny pendulous blossoms bowed
and coiled in fragrant lavender blue.

It may have been that scent.
as Manley Hopkins once said
was like faint honey,
a sweetness that
awakened the dusty web of my past.
All at once I was there,
in '53, six years old,
holding hands with Lesley.

We left the house in Dorking,
linking tiny fingers,
running towards sandstone hills
at the edge of town, air so fresh
so full of grass, cows and hay,
lingering in our noses
as we opened the gates to Glory Field.

Early in the day,
grass still moist
and our black buckled shoes would squelch
their way across the green sea.
We would use our arms to row ourselves
across to Glory Wood
while looking out for dog pirates.

Our green eyes widened,
ears listening, hearing
nothing but eerie calm of the clearing
and our hurried breaths.
Trees narrowed into a path;
sunlight peeked through their leafy canopy,
falling in pots of gold hidden
in the mass of lavender blue.

Once again we'd row ourselves
across the sea, running fingers
through long stalks, falling into the
deep flowery water, legs lost
amidst the honeyed scent.
Glory Wood began to darken;
a coolness enveloped our arms
and we'd pick some gifts for home.

Every sunday we gave our mums a present.
Bunched tightly in our pink hands,
nail tips white,
pendulous coiled petals obscuring
our red faces.
They always smiled, distant,
expression vague
but now I know;
they too remembered the bluebells.


  1. I hope you are publishing your poetry. Wonderful imagery.

  2. Thank you Julia for your kind comment. I'm pleased you liked the imagery. I worked hard trying to get that right because it's imagining the bluebells that gets you most.

    I haven't published my poetry and to be honest, don't think i ever will. I don't even send them to competitions because i don't think i'm good enough for that, which is okay. Literary success isn't meant for everyone, is it?! :)

  3. Beautiful poetry and reflective imagery. It took me right back to being a kid. Lovely.

  4. Emma-Jane: Thank you for such a lovely comment. I'm honoured you took the time to do so! Cheers :)


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