Death, love

In emerald fields the poppies grow

In emerald fields the poppies grow.

By the well in her arms she’ll know you
And love you in this brief armistice.
Arched in their hearts.

Until she’ll hold you down
And let you go.
Your last wish, you spoke.

In the watery channels below,
Furled cocoon existence.
How mournfully slow.

In emerald fields the poppies grow.

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