Dandelion love was strong and staid,
accompanied by a stream of sun-blessed days.
A simple boy, with uncomplicated ways,
like a fresh-baked loaf - he was hot, when sold.
His owl eyes were saucers,
eager, always, to hold a cup of our dandelion love.
Poppy love was obsessive and drugged,
an opiate passion bringing soaring vistas for star-crossed lovers,
Entwined in eternal embrace we were unaware of others.
Lost inside consuming desire, with roots like weeds
which lacked love's wings.
Beware the poppy; enigmatic with inscrutable ways
and empty eyes that wait like flies,
eager, always, to catch a greedy gulp of your poppy love.
David Bowie and the Importance of Failure...
9 years ago
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