The poppy flower!

The Iliad compares,

You to a Trojan prince.

The murals of a tomb,

Walls you adorn.

The veterans honor,

Lapels you plume.

Only hairy stalks ,

hold you up.

Flaming colors,

Of rounded petals.

Such fragility stocks,

Rich deathly potency.

Some tombstones,

Embellished with your glory.

Those at death's door,

Knock on your essence.

Blood red and fragile,

You sway in lush green.

So lulling and reviving, tender you are to my senses.

I wish to lay down here, amidst your radiance.