Bluebells

From a distant wood, a boy,
I gathered bluebells by the armful.
They never made it home.
In sadness wilted, long before,
Their sorrow, hidden in a hedgerow.
And now it is too late,
To tell of love and thank you,
Un-wilting sorrows
Carried by the armful,
I pray my mother
Guessed those feelings,
Hidden in a hedgerow.

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