A poppies poem...
A Poppies poem
I stand up tall toward the sky
The sun it warms my petals so
I have to hold my head up high
Above the meadow grasses though.
lightly a breeze blows by my way
It makes my stem rock to and fro
The hairs upon it stand out bold
But my head does not bow low.
No not I not ever my friend
I won't ever lie down low
I will hold my head up high
My friend toward the sky I go.



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