Purple Lupins (Poetry)
09th August 2015
About halfway down the garden
beside the concrete path
a clump of purple lupins grew
self-seeded — first to last.
A mass of spikes — they bloomed and bloomed
all summer — thick as thieves
the odd rogue pink amongst the crowd
and all played host to bees.
The insects clambered in and out
those swaying highrise flowers
their endless drowsy nectared hum
a soundtrack for quiet hours
playing long-forgotten games
squatting in the sun ...
But kids grow old. The house long-sold.
The bees now dead and gone.
beside the concrete path
a clump of purple lupins grew
self-seeded — first to last.
A mass of spikes — they bloomed and bloomed
all summer — thick as thieves
the odd rogue pink amongst the crowd
and all played host to bees.
The insects clambered in and out
those swaying highrise flowers
their endless drowsy nectared hum
a soundtrack for quiet hours
playing long-forgotten games
squatting in the sun ...
But kids grow old. The house long-sold.
The bees now dead and gone.