At a pristine mountain meadow
Where the streamlets meander
I sat still to watch the wind blow
Wild brushes of lavender
As the fragrance filled my nostrils
Caressing my glad palate
Nothing could surpass my heart's thrills
Surely not from any plate
Picnicking alone in springtime
At a montane paradise
Surprisingly makes a great time
That lasts only for a trice
Then she caught my eye, this poppy
Doing handstands just nearby
Like a petite maiden, peppy
With her skirt up in the sky
Her hips swayed gently side to side
As if dancing to the wind
Stirring my proboscis inside
My poor heart was getting skinned
Among all the scattered poppies
None was as hue-crisp and fair
Where her sisters' looked all sloppy
Her petals were fit to wear
They had arrived from the hilltop
Where carpets of them were sown
But they rode the wind here to stop
Ditching the breeze they had flown
Amidst perennials they'd settle,
Blossoming in early spring.
Wildflowers that bloom in April
Would envy the bees they'd bring
Leaning closer just to watch her
Choreograph in front of me
She knew I was there, not too far
But there was no care to see
I whispered my awe a few times
And she smiled in coy return
I smiled back; just then my watch chimed
The romance was thus adjourned
But we knew it wasn't over
We'd be meeting there again
In two days just like two lovers
With excitement one can't feign
Yet in store was only pain
I'd return to our rendezvous
Yearning hard with haste and glee
But to my wildest jamais vu
The same place would make me flee
There seemed to have been a stampede
Of horrific proportions
For the squashed laid crushed on the mead
My love was now death's portion
I ran out of emotions
Was it some place else, or our tryst
Littered with foreign debris?
Stomped by reckless human tourists,
Their outlines appeared carefree.
And they got away scot-free.
Thanks for reading my poem. If you enjoyed it, and would love to see more of my works, please follow me. And leave the poppies be, this year, they might have a date with a bee. ✌
