Poetry Corner
Poppies by Kiea Weaver
A field, yes a large open field
Filled with poppies, swaying swiftly in the breeze
Like a water painting
When all colours run into one
The reds, blues, and greens
A few petals float in the air
Like an autumn tree, when it loses leaves
Slowly winter comes
And poppies wilt away
But they will grow back
Growing like new born babes in the field
The big open field.
10:28am Wednesday 30th April 2008
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