The cheeful poppies gently sway
above the grasses, daisies and weeds.
It's a passion rich crimson though
that catches my eye
growing closer to the earth
and sheltered;
gently ruched lustrous petals
cupping it's dark heart
black as the night, stark
against the sky-blue glare
and lucid yellow Rape

I have the impotent idea
that I'll give it to you
or someone
so with an easy snap
at the mid-stem it is picked
(slightly held-out for no-one before me)
and from that moment on
it was bound only to whither.
It is already dead.

Carfully discarded now,
that flower never looked so lovely
as it did
the moment before I saw it.

AdeH AdeH
26-30, M
Feb 7, 2010