Field of Pompeian red poppies
in our back garden blaze
parades of scarlet ladies
queuing for poppy dance days
Architectural floral marvels
impossibly large petal heads
pirouette and jete upon the
slenderest of stem threads
And from ballet to can can
our voluptuous vermillion poppies
degage their heels up high and
show off their under panties
And oh the colors these
sensual blooms bestow
our own red light district puts on
it's annual cabaret show
I think some are shocked
by our flirty flower girls
they are ever so naughty
with their ruffles and whirls
They give so much joy for
that so fleeting spring time
they turn themselves inside out
a torch song in crimson and mime
They only give without taking
opening their hearts so wide
asking no payment at all
they have nothing to hide
but with entrances barely begun
their pageant too soon ends
we must bid goodbye to
to our cheery cherry red friends
We loudly applaud "brava"
one last encore and bow to all
our dancers blow final kisses
in their flame colored curtain call
And then the stage is dark
no more a berry merry maid
their little beacons burnt out
as they wither in the shade
And we in stalls enraptured
exclaim with a giddy head
wasn't this their best year ever
our own private rhapsody in red
Lucky us with front row seats
for the world tour of "Poppy!"
in any music hall no better
performance you'll ever see
Your rest my ladies you earned
thank you for our lovely show
each season's farewell get harder
when it is time for you to go
with gratitude to for the dance
(photo attribution John Haslam from Dornoch, Scotland, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons) till I can find my own pictures
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