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Poppy
The sun shines through the smoke of her cigarette now resting by her side.
Her hair is a mop, a dirty, tangled mop.
It just cleaned the floor, now didn't it?
Her pants are oversized making her
Legs twigs, capable of cracking any moment.
Her jacket is borrowed from her only friend.
And I watch her with fascination
As she makes her way alone.
She sucks in the addictive tobacco straight to her cold lungs.
The rest she blows out to the warmth of the morning.
Catching my eye is a poppy pinned across her heart.
It's 11AM and it says that she cares.
But I wonder if she does.
She still has her faithful friend between her fingers.
It's Veteran's Day and all she can do is smoke it.
