Where Bluebells Race…

He took me to a secret place where fairies dwelled and bluebells raced.
The trees, they sang us lullabies beneath the bluest of blue skies. The clouds,
They swirled and puffed like thistledown and candy fluff.
He stroked my hair and told me tales of fairy folk throughout the dales,
That flew from secret place to place. He had a warm and gentle face.

He took me to that magic place where pixies played and bluebells raced.
He brought me sweets and cherry pie and sang me songs of wizards wise,
With pointy hats and rheumy eyes. He tied a ribbon in my hair, a gift,
For a girl so fair, whose skin was pale and soft like snow,
I smiled at him for he was kind, the kindest man that I could find.

He took me to the usual place where daisies danced and bluebells raced.
We settled there all nice and snug and dined on scones and buttercream,
Washed down with bottles fizzing green as goosegogs ripe for bursting.
There we lay upon the grass and dreamed of far off fairy lands. His smile,
Soft below expectant eyes that bore into the soul of me.

He took me to our special place where blackbirds chirped and bluebells raced.
He whispered tales of shadowed nooks and secret vales where lovers passed,
Lost summer days locked in love’s eternal haze. He held me close and stroked my face.
I felt a creeping in my skin, within those arms, beneath that grin. My weeping heart,
Trapped within a brittle cage, longed to flit from his burgeoning rage.

He bore me to that hollow place where shadows stretched and bluebells raced.
He threw me down on icy blades and shackled me with secrets. Amid dusty heads,
The racing blues, the husky reds, he pinned me down among the bells,
And spoke of how it pleased him so to see me smile and watch me grow.
His breath was sour, his grip was tight. I could not flee with all my might.

He made me here a burial ground; there is no light, there is no sound. The clouds roil,
Black and thick and dire. The leaves are stripped of youthful hue. Here I’ll lie,
Forevermore, for no-one knows to whence he bore my lifeless frame. He stole my soul,
Murdered me among these roots, beneath this tree. Here is my Eternity –
Interred in this most hellish place where men tell lies and bluebells race.

Back to the Eyrie

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