Under the weeping willow where the shadows lie,
Where the soil is plagued with weeds,
Resides the lone poppy that sways with the breeze.

It isn’t the reddest of poppies, nor is it typically special,
But the way in which it survives and why,
Leaves me with a question.

Why struggle against the wind to preserve this life of despair,
Why live this life little poppy? Where the shadows lie,
Why not accept my fate my little poppy? Just lie down and die.

The ray of glory dispelled all doubt in my little poppy,
Where the sun does shine,
For a life of moments is a rich life indeed.