Poppies stop me on my way
blazing at the break of day
I stop beyond the shield of trees
where poppies whisper in the breeze.
Though thrifts and meadowsweet are fine
and also sing at morning time
in truth I only stop for these
poppies, which whisper on the breeze.
While busily the honeybees
light on clover and eglantine
they cannot stir my heart with ease
like these poppies, stirred by the breeze.
Wild oats and barley softly sway
spreading gossip, ‘Sure,’ they say:
‘in springtime meadows such as these
the poppies stole her heart with ease.’
A poppy for a broken heart:
I held the hand you offered me
and I remember days like these
when poppies whisper on the breeze.
© Experimentsinfiction 2021, All Rights Reserved
Written for dVerse
As the poppies looked so lovely when I was out cycling yesterday morning, they inspired me to have another go at Laura’s dVerse prompt. This time I tried to throw in some Symploce as well (repetition at both the start and end of a line.)
Interestingly, I had no idea whether bees like eglantine (aka sweet briar) when I wrote this, I just liked the sound of the word, but it looks as though through serendipity I was right.