Poems • Reflections

The Poppy

 
So many varieties growing wild
Never a flower with a need to hide
Showing your colour, standing with pride

Grow where you like in garden or field
Buds ready to open your seeds to yield
Waving in the breeze petals worn like a shield

Looking to the sun, a work of art
You’ve become the symbol of all who depart
Lost to war, a field of broken hearts

In their honour you stand to the last
Your colours such a vivid contrast
A nations tribute to the past