Orange is the single-hearted color. I remember
How I found them in a vein beside the railroad,
A bumble-bee fumbling for a foothold
While the poppies' petals flagged beneath his boot.
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I had outlived them and had only their letters to read, Fallen around the vase, saying they were sorry.
You captured the sad feeling when something captured dies...very nice poem..i too mourn the death of a picked flower...and poppies only last a few days after they are pollinated..that's nature for you..and Happy New Year...