Arts, Photography, Poetry, Scotland

Poetry: Bluebells

Bluebell

BLUEBELLS

The Bluebells of Scotland never disappoint,

Whether from woodland or pastures sunlit green fields,

Aprop in spring, a carpet covering like a purple-violet hue spreading thick and dense.

Nature’s rich bounty for all to see,

Centuries old trees that stand like a canopy providing shelter for this spring wild-flower,

one that becomes a delicacy for the naked eye just before the vegetative green returns in abundance.

One more glimpsing glance. The Bluebells of Scotland. Just a reminder of its natural beauty.

 

©MarkDowe2020: all rights reserved

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Arts, Poetry

His Love

HIS LOVE

New Dawn

HIS love is like a gentle breeze,

That brushes my cheek and travels with ease.

His love is like the open sea

So wide and deep and flowing free.

His love is like the prettiest flower

That brings such joy in a dismal hour,

His love is like the sun’s warm rays,

Brightening even the saddest of days.

His love is like a crystal stream

That sparkles with the sunshine’s gleam.

His love is like a warm embrace

Making our troubles fade without trace.

He loves us with a love so true

That we can’t help but love him, too.

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