In fields where poppies gently sway,
Their petals whisper in the breeze.
A dance of red beneath the day,
Where time seems to freeze.

The sunlight kisses every bloom,
Painting dreams in crimson hues.
Amidst the quiet, there’s no gloom,
Just nature’s silent muse.

Each poppy tells a story old,
Of battles fought and peace regained.
Their beauty, a sight to behold,
In every petal, history is contained.

So let us walk through fields of red,
Where memories and dreams entwine.
In poppies’ whispers, words unsaid,
We find a peace so divine.