In Fields of GoldA Poem by Chris Shawa happy memory from poppies, not a sad one. (Atkinson's London - fragrance - Californian Poppy)
Under the sun in fields of gold,
grow poppies in late August heat. Bright clusters showing off their skirts of silken boldness, indiscreet. Flirtatious as you pass them by, they can not fail to catch your eye. Elfreda, my paternal Nan, whose lipstick kisses stained me red, applied her perfume sparingly, a subtle touch is best she said. In tiny screw top bottle bought from Woolworths was her favoured sort. Though poppies often make us sad, reminders of past war torn years, of loss of life and sacrifice, a source of sorrow not of cheer, forgive me if once in a while these flowers yield from me a smile.
© 2018 Chris ShawFeatured Review
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Added on July 14, 2018Last Updated on July 14, 2018 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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