Periwinkle Blue

In days of old, in lands of yore, where rolling hills and forests flourished, there lived a maid named Lily fair. With visage bright and heart so rare, she lived in a cottage by the village square.

One morn, whilst wandering through the woods so wild, she chanced upon a mead of periwinkle, blue as skies and delicate as dreams. Of folklore she had heard, of magic and protection it did bring, so she plucked a handful of the blooms so rare.

As she homeward bound, she did espy a cloud of darkness hanging o’er the village nigh. The air was thick with dread, the birds fell silent in despair, and she hastened her pace, for her family’s safety was her care.

When she did arrive, she found her sire and dam, huddled in their cottage, fearing for their lives. They lit up as Lily ignited hope. She, ever brave, did then remember the periwinkle, and with hope so true, placed it on the windowsill, for magic and protection anew

As if by magic, a gentle breeze did rise, and the periwinkle petals danced, spreading their hue. The cloud did lift, the sun did shine, and the birds did sing, with melody so bright.

And so it was, that the periwinkle, with its colour so gay, brought magic and protection to that village, every day. And Lily, with her knowing smile so bright, did live on in story, as the maid who brought the light.

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