Sunday, 14 June 2009

My little poppy

Tissue thin and wildly coloured with sooty black nose, simple, evocative, in memoriam and seriously mind-altering...the poppy is a flower that sends thoughts darting in multiple directions from the profound to the commercially indulgent.
They emerge, singly, in the dry dust of the garden wall, flourish for a day or two and then seep back into the earth.
I was at a dinner with friends, the topic was massage, when a wonderfully erudite and knowledgeable woman in her ninth decade announced that she had once been massaged in a Chinese opium den....you could have heard a poppy drop.

3 comments:

Winchester whisperer said...

Flanders Field...

Scriptor Senex said...

"....you could have heard a poppy drop". Brilliant imagery!

Mopsa said...

Yes, WW, yes.

Thank you SS!