Dreaning of Yellow Poppy Fields
DREAMING OF YELLOW POPPY FIELDS
Soft among the yellow poppy fields,
I clung to clocks of Dandelions,
Driven by my seeds of youth.
Breathless in their grace,
They gather all, rolling in the summer hay.
A bravura blow of what youth should be,
Chasing down the summer's lease.
Cockle shells and pinafores.
On a beach of wave wet toes
and sandwiches,
Longing for a summer of swimming
and sun warmed skin.
Remembered in the blush of girls, laughing'
Lying on our backs in the moon rise apogee.
Midsummer light steals the dawn.
Climbing the hill to summer's peak;
Dreaming long of those fire hot days,
Sleeping in yellow poppy fields.
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