Treasure Island

Arti Chopra

(16 Nov 1953 / Jammu)

The Poppy Field


tall, bright, red poppies in profusion,
the first glimpse, just took my breath away,
standing proudly among the brown grass,
so proudly did they sway.

droopingly delicate green stems,
swaying softly with the breeze,
filelds and fields of glorious colour,
bewitched the mind, as they teased.

blue skies, warm golden sun,
and the poppy fields below,
only nature with her magic brush,
could put on such a show.

buzzing bees, flitting about
drunk on nectar sweet,
and me, walking through the poppies,
what a glorious heavenly treat...

more of scarlet, sometimes pink,
scattered in profusion,
eagerly I gathered them in delight,
knowing it was no illusion.

the wind lifted my spirits high,
the poppies nodded in harmony,
and as I lay down on the grass,
I listened to nature's symphony.

music divine in the breeze,
throbbing drumbeats in my ears,
the heavenly sight scent of the poppy fields
would leave its memorybehind for years.

Submitted: Friday, August 03, 2007
Edited: Saturday, March 26, 2011

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