Anahit Arustamyan writes

THE RED POPPIES AND THE MAD WIND

Red poppies! Look at me with your ruby eyes! The sheet under your feet is a stretched emerald. My fair tales are being told by your scarlet tongues. Are your lips being washed by the reddest wine? The pearls seem to have melted in your silky hearts.Were the pearls your hopes in the faded buds? Red poppies! This wind is homeless blowing in your yard. Red poppies! This wind is mad. It has lost its love. The red wine poured all over your cheeks may haunt your smile.The wind has a dry throat so it will cough and cough.

 

--ConsistentHypocrite