Florence wears her poppy with pride.
Bloody Mary at the ready ,
fag a dangle from painted lips,
burgeoning breasts child bearing hips.
All a wobble; she waits for the last post.
Lips a tremble; as she drinks a silent toast.
Her eyes and demeanour belie her pain the most.
An orphan of war; his body unfound.
Buried deep beneath foreign ground.
For peace he fought and lost his life,
then suicide tore away his grieving wife.
Alone, eyes all a puddle, she stands. Two minutes never brings them back. Silently clasping her shaking hands.
While, we all remember them.
Do you think my attempt is too fickle for such a poignant rememberance? Leave me a comment its good to talk.
Thanks to the artist of Florence who holds full copyright, giffy for use of tumbling animation. Both poem and poppies are my own.
Today I came across this quote, it is not mine I can not lay claim to it or find the person who penned it, but if you take it at face value we human beings are horrendous house guests.
Maybe the lesson is humility? Just maybe it is to live in harmony? Or it could mean to live, care and nurture the earth, like we would tend the garden if it was all we had to feed us. Well it looks to me like we lost, failled the challenge, destined to stand in the corner and wear the proverbial dunces hat!
I think C.S. Lewis had read the quote and this is his interpretation above. Or maybe he was hovering around a portal and talking to Aslan, who knows?
So I would like your oppinions, if you have a moment… What do you think the quote is trying to say? Or do you know it’s originator?
I look forward to hearing what you think. *Waving* dying to read your responses, I know you won’t let me down.
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