Bed of Bluebells

read great poems



I want to lie down in a bed of bluebells
and forget all that
needs to be forgotten.

The wind follows the birds
flying over meadows, hills,
seas, skies and trees.

I want to smell the air
filled with violet and purple scents
falling on the perfect picture.

The squirrel
walks around the trees with a happy face
and a funny smile.

I want to let them drug me
and evoke beautiful dreams
of the yellow sun.

An ant sniffs my leg and decides
I’m not the kind of usual food
but I will do for now.

The bluebells cover my thoughts
and whisper gently
while the moon shows its face
and stares at the flesh
of the day before.



photograph by Mihail Ribkin


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