The Colour Purple for WESTLY

a poem by Christine Anne Shaw, UK

Wisteria upon the vine
entwines and droops its purple blooms
and lavender whose perfume thrills
both calms and soothes those minor ills
Yet succulent are grapes that grow
full-bodied crushed which turn to wine
and Devon violets in the fields
will linger, fragrant, so divine.

The heads of purplish broccoli
plump aubergines are fine to eat,
while heather, heavy on the moors,
will give those tired eyes a treat.
Tall craggy slopes with purplish hues
cast shadows at the end of day
and purple ribbons flying free
remind me of a child at play.

There is a richness I admire
as purple sets my heart on fire.

A Show of Snowdrops
A Bouquet of Nature's Best
Wind farms and sunsets

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