She blooms in spring after the heavy snow,
Her grace heralded by trumpet fanfare.
Along the river bank is where she'll grow
Loud and proud in the warm early May air.
Though tangled weeds may grasp firm on her roots,
She'll spite them whilst dressed in glorious blue.
So all who see her fresh buds and shoots,
Will know inside flourishes every hue
Of colour there displayed inside her mind,
Topics not easily comprehended,
Encyclopaedic knowledge you will find,
Which given her chance will be defended.
And as the Bluebells leave with Summer Sun,
She will remain to cheer us, never done.