by Marcella C.

awake is the child thinking about his

birthday is a word like

October hurts like the sound of a

drum saying to let

go to our hearts red as

poppies wave in the fields of

death spreading flowing through

trees sprout from

bushes grow berries and

nightshade gets eaten from

children crying from the pain of

death is everywhere growing from your

shoes track in mud from the

basement of your

soul is one I don’t know like

your face is the one that keeps me

going from one poppy to

another child dead in

sleep keeps me dreaming of

you are mine till the

end of life is

tomorrow we will meet in the

dark is one thing I’m afraid

of the moon shines like your

eyes see the existence of our

species of poppy have not been

found in the field of

love moves from one home to

another child awake in the dark.


This poem makes me...
  • Think (43%)
  • Smile (8%)
  • Somber (24%)
  • Surprised (10%)
  • Feel a Connection (6%)
  • Inspired (8%)