Across the wild velvet moor, when delicate bluebells yawn
near crystal rill, a belle sings, on each bright summer morn.
humming songs of eternal wait,crouched on gravel brown
painting memories of yesters,long after sundown,
though several summers have passed ,since the day of his no-return,
still ‘neath flickering promises, lingers lullabies of nocturne.
Swept by time, one fateful day,a stony silence ensued
there fell the last solitary tear, of love, hurt, and an adieu.
but they say, across the moor,when delicate bluebells yawn,
still echoes a mellifluous song, on each bright summer morn.
Submitting for Thursday Poet’s Rally