Weed or not a Weed

I thought this was a weed growing in the garden and I'm so pleased I didn't pull it out because it has produced this beautiful red flower which reminds me of a Poppy.

AS WILD AS THE POPPY


A little bud with a low bowing head and when you bloom
your the colour of red.
Red for danger and as red as the rose, but you the wild
poppy such an elegent pose.
Tear like buds surround a paper looking flower, with petals
disappearing at the first sign of a shower.
The very next day a new bud opens it's way to
pretty red pettles that last about a day.
You suffer pain with the wind and the rain but that doesn't
stop you blooming again.
Poppies disappear like stars in the night but when the sun
comes up, there up again like a fire burning bright.
Along the wayside they are there as well they are even in a
battle field a place called hell.
Poppy sweet, wild bloom of red. A pin in the lapel to
remember the dead.
Lonely wild poppy the greatest of all you are always there
when we need to call, because when one dies there is
another to take it's place.
The dear wild poppy the one with the sad face.