Swaying, seeded, wild

poppies. You sprung up

in a planter near the window

four years ago. Now the wild

plant relocated to the

fruit and vegetable patch

in the main garden.

Single poppies sprung up

sometimes two at the same

time. But never three simultaneously.

A reason to celebrate.

Blood red to commemorate

the fallen at the end of the

Great War, to end all wars.

Four years ago, when first spotted

they symbolised my high regard

for my friend who passed away

in early September that year.

Rather than request a visit or two

I sent her photos of the wild

poppies. So deeply embedded in

our culture to symbolise remembrance.

No explanation needed. But could

have been misunderstood

as if I was expecting her to die soon.

I love to see their bright dark heads

popping up to say hello!

Blowing in the wind and the

autumnal showers, a very short

life. They cheer me up and warm

me on a cold day.

Orangeblossom

A Moodscope member.