Poppy
with whispers she makes shadows all hold hands
the West wind turns it's back at her command.
With one cold glance the daisies lose their leaves
she holds nature in her thrall, she believes.
Making potions in a jar to made-up tunes,
telling fortunes using Lego bricks for runes.
Poppy says she's had the gift since she was ten,
Mum hopes she'll grow out of it, who knows when.
With crystals, string, a map and twigs for rods
she finds lost things, assisted by the Gods.
A hair grip that she wore when she was three
and a boiled sweet down the back of the settee.
Buoyed by this success, she moved out to the fields
to see what her divining skills could yield.
Dry leaves sighed with every step she made,
the rods directing Poppy through the glade
when a hand took hold her ankle from the ground
from something that did not want to be found.
Faded posters on the lamp posts now replaced
with another set that feature Poppy's face.
Two missing girls, the same town, in five years,
children play behind locked gates amidst their fears
'till father time puts all of this behind them, but
Lucy says she has a gift-
and she can find them.
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