Silent skies spin silvered dreams,
Unbidden memories split silver seams;
Silver hair crowns ancient head,
Knowledge the treasure, and silver the thread.
When poppies fade, our memories
Are washed in sepia, photo sleeves
With tattered corners tucked away
In dusty albums’ slow decay.
When poppies fade, recollections
Fall, dead leaves in mass defections,
Crumble-dry beneath bare branches,
Blowing lost in frozen trenches.
When poppies fade, awareness slips
From senseless, heartless fingertips,
Petals blanched, without their power,
Bloodless loss, amnesia’s flower.