I wondered into garden of blossomed blue flowers today,
morning glory and forget me not,
sprinkled with dew and swaying always so slight,
tethered but not, bowing but not.
Soft as the shy maiden within' a dream,
levitated blue bell with faces within a face,
always so grounded but eye on sight for heavens,
dreaming of tumbleweeds but rooted to her spot.
The rain from last night has taken away her strength,
but she knows her best to make the raindrops shine,
stubborn to keep her place in mid air,
she still glides and dances amidst her faith's plot.
Never so lavished as reds and pinks of roses,
never so dark but never so soft,
never so layered, just holding few petals to her sleeves,
ever refusing to let them.. ever leave her heart.
There she sits, my bluebell, on the mercy of changing winds,
there she hangs in balance, between fragility and strength,
there she is again, nudging me on while I stayed,
inviting me to admire her but asking not be plucked.