In fields where crimson whispers softly sway,
Poppies dance beneath the morning light,
Their petals tell of dreams that fade away,
A fleeting beauty, fragile in its flight.

With tender grace, they nod in silent rows,
A sea of red that stretches far and wide,
Each bloom a story only nature knows,
As gentle winds their secrets softly guide.

Beneath the azure sky, they proudly stand,
Guardians of memories long past,
In every gentle touch from nature’s hand,
A promise that their beauty will outlast.

So let us wander through these fields of grace,
Where poppies paint the earth with vibrant hue,
And find in their embrace a quiet place,
To dream in colors bold and ever true.