Poppies
E
Elena Sandu
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Altın Yaprak
The summer's mostly gone,
dear love!
Will a delicate, touching heart
lose its colored blast?
Dry,
die fast, by nightfall?
Red spots on ground
like poppy cries
In flames of pain
To ashes,
autumn
burned desires may…?
Even if so,
heart fully loves
she knows your beauty...
she knows you
she smelled your pain....
The poppies dies
but their life has
printed one
self renew pattern:
Red petals
dressing up a heart.
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