hannaheno's daily lives

By hannaheno

Flow.Er.

A poppy grows upon the shore,
Bursts her twin cups in summer late:
Her leaves are glaucus-green and hoar,
Her petals yellow, delicate.
She has no lovers like the red,
That dances with the noble corn:
Her blossoms on the waves are shed,
Where she stands shivering and forlorn.

-- Robert Bridges

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