Down by the poppies,
'What is it, hosing dad,
that stiffens a poppy's neck
just before it flowers? '
asked my convenient daughter.
'It's poppy love, Con-v, ' I said.
(It has to be more than just water.)
'I love Con-v, rhyming dad' said she.
'Oh, that's just the first of many.
It's poppy love, Convenny.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem