Poppies

Poppies

So serene

So prepossessing

Petals shaped like serum

Scattered so neatly, like a perfectly made bed

Cushioning the landscape with their treacherous tranquility


Poppies

A meadow of mellow rubies

Laced in lingerings of lavender

Afield from nirvana, but safe and sound from the gates of hell

A place to meet again, beyond the moon and rain

Where eyes stay closed, shielded from the bright blue sky


And when the wistful folk have breathed their last

There they will sleep

No longer will they speak

No longer will they grow

No longer will they contemplate

No longer will they desire

They will not suffer

They will not rejoice

Together, they will sleep forevermore

In the vast vista of the field of Poppies