ghost poem (Remove filter)
From up on the poppy hill
Up on poppy hill they say, where no animal makes a sound.
No children wander off to play, just poppies all around.
If I recall between you and I, In that bright red field of flowers.
Like a crimson wave, a scarlet sea, hides stories full of powers.
For it was up on poppy hill, you know, in the red fields there yonder.
Where you might see the lonely widow, as she often starts to wander.
...
Tuesday 8th November 2022 8:38 pm
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