RED SKIRTS

Oh those poppies, those poppies
They make such a mess
Red skirts discarded
On life coloured grass

They've been dancing
For darkness
For all the night long
And now naked they freeze
In the dim rays of dawn

Oh those poppies, those poppies
All spent on the high
But I have no spare clothes
I must let them just die

M P 31/8/21