I return to the world of bluebells, expectant hopeful. Will she be there, my translucent beauty. I search but nothing, I guess it was a once in a lifetime thing. Hours pass as I meander through the trees, it's getting late I need to leave, the light will be gone soon anyway.
I hear singing, a melodic tune dancing on the spring breeze. Silently I step trying desperately not to break a twig or rustle the undergrowth. Camera held in readiness, the song grows louder hypnotised by the rhythmic tones I sway as if drunk by the melody.
There she is, but wait she is not the same, this is another, a darker more brooding entity but still glorious, still beautiful. She is lost in her singing, the trees seem to move to her song. I am lost too, caressed by her loveliness, entranced, the world seems to stop, silenced by her. Then I manage to break free from her spell, raising the lens I take the shot, birds scatter as if gunfire had hailed a warning. The magic over I return to my car. I will not return again to this place for I cannot take the pain of leaving.