iWar

iWar

i remember when i was

about fourteen i was in the high

street with a lad called something

or other

i was a bit naive about stuff only

really knowing about makeup

and shoes and pop songs and such

(maybe nothing’s changed much)

i saw an old lady selling paper and

plastic poppies

i recall telling that lad that i liked

poppies so keen to get a snog

and fumble 

he bought me one

i called the poppy peter (perhaps

that was his name) the black plastic 

centre and green stem long since lost

in a field somewhere the delicate 

dereliction of paper petals

tucked safely away in a keepsake box

but i remember peter and that

must be important as symbolic

resurrection of those early blooms

of innocent love because

now i stand in a quiet reflection

of heart beats lost

and silent