Poppies

by Harry

Submitted by Christine Magee

.

I moved with her in her shadow,
always running behind,
keeping in perfect step with her mood
and trying to usher her out into daylight
so that I could gather poppies in the sun.
If I succeeded, I was invited to dance
and we’d twirl round and around.
I’d throw back my head
as I burst into her laughter,
weaving in and out of her displeasure
and leaping onto the pages of her good books.

I would become so dizzy with delight
that I’d topple over and slide with her,
back into her darkness.
Old age smoothed the tucks and folds
of her troubled mind
but I never knew how much she loved me
until I fell from between the pages of the book
that dropped from her dead hand.

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