Strange Poppies

Strange poppies
On the banking
By an empty road
Bright weeds

Stop, to watch
Rich red
Majestic bloodied
Battered in the breeze

Lean in
Flushed with a hundred images
Thousands of memories
Falsely remembered

Might I pick one?
But then
How sad it would be
To see it die

Better they are left here
Striking
A red fire
To spread

This means something
Strange poppies
Here
To remember

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