The Bluebell Field

Behind the mossy gate, that lay just past the village

Ivy now concealing the once gleaming metal latch

He crawls under the rotten planks, earth becoming present on his clothes

Yet he fails to take notice, as the Bluebells are in sight

Quick feet take off running towards the azure bulbs, trying to make up for lost time

A sense of guilt fortifies in his chest, internally pleading that she would be forgiving

Fingers clenched around a sprig of primrose, his attempt at an apology

A glimpse of her castleton skirt flashes in the corner of his eye

She had been waiting for little less than two hours

Fidgeting with the fresh apron to keep her hands from idle

A quick glance over her shoulder induces another wave of disappointment 

For he should’ve arrived well before now

The floral scenery that had routinely brought comfort now failed to cease woes

Executing a decision influenced by despondence and irritation, she turns to leave

Just as she had began the trek home, a distant noise draws her attention

The creaking of wood sends a grin tugging at her lips

Although he had forgotten the secret entrance they had long ago discovered

A breath of relief escaped

She hadn’t been abandoned