There are poppies peeking from the roads we used to go down,
beauty built from the blood that you spilled,
swaying with smiles in the sun.
They survived a cruel winter,
reborn in the cool spring air,
tattooed by your temper,
but still stunning,
sunning and smiling,
sharing their sweet secrets,
as I while away the hours in their shadow.
Sincerely, Jennifer x 