Blue is burning bright and deep
in the gardens of my sleep.
The ordered flowers of my dreaming
Mirror summer mid-day’s gleaming,
at attention, standing guard,
all about a child’s yard.

I am aging now.  Does this
set the night to reminisce
and move my dreaming eye to roam
the backyard of my boyhood home?
There a firm azure replaces
all the old remembered faces.
There the bright battalion smolders —
upright rows of bluebell soldiers.

(c) Eric Robert Nolan 2022

Photo credit: By MichaelMaggs – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2704582