The Poppy

~

wild poppies feign weakness

appearing frail, content to thrive 

in splendid isolation, 

tentatively, they bow and wave 

as if to timidly hail a stranger,

from a distance en-masse

their colours bleed across the

dark earth, a blurred image of

blood red crimson cloth, 

faux fragility belying an 

earnest resilience,

a man might give his true love 

the gift of a rose,

I would give a poppy

to my one true heart.

*

© Graham R Sherwood 11/25