... have grown wild, no longer quite so delicate as in younger days, had already withstood many a storm and I know appreciate my place in life .... oh, and you have no idea how nice it is to see the sun rise .... with the last bird chirping I put together my petals to the bedroom and remain, in expectation of a new day ....
.... from time to time I have to hide even when it is fall, my fall leaves and the soil through the winter must take that long just to bring the summer, with my head to adorn, to finally return to dance with the wind ... I love it .... not even a warm summer rain is then able to alleviate my love of life ...
sometimes visitors wander my way ... Some go carelessly past me ... Others remain for a while and sometimes they gently touch my tender leaves, unaware that they have touched my heart ...
sometimes children come to me and pick me and I find myself in the company of other summer flowers again ... I often look back to friendly, from the age-drawn, sometimes dreamy, young love, the eyes, if so, I was given in any case out of love ...
... Yes, I like that ... sometimes see me but also sad, tearful eyes ... then they tell me stories of a happy mind last summer ... but what can I target because, already, my leaves are too delicate to human tears to dry ... one consolation ... for these people see me but I always enjoy in its full glory, to give them hope, to show how beautiful life is ... and often can the sight, just this magic, a smile on his face ...
... frankly, I leave to pick me reluctantly, but I wear it not for the people when they moved to a pure heart ... because I know there is a new summer and my roots help me to prosper again ...
... the people there have a hard time with their troubles, because if their "stems" once articulated, they are not as fortunate as I sit up again ... I
contrast, the wild poppy, am accustomed to the roughness of nature and have the confidence in each summer and never picked to dance, again with the wind ...
the essence of my nature can make me forget what happened to me last summer for mischief ... and sometimes people learn also that wild poppies not take long once picked, gives joy and let me therefore in the coming year, along the way ... yes, I am glad and happy and look forward again to the next "spectators" ...
... I often think how nice it is good to be human ... to be able to go where curiosity and love wearing ... But then I see no, being human lies in the danger ... one hand, limited life ... or blindness before humanity ... Fear of love ... also afraid of life ... For protection against hurt feelings ...
... I say to myself: "Do not think about it, because it will have a reason why this is so" ... everyone has his place, which is given him fill out as good as he can ... always hoping to meet like-minded people ...
... one thing but most people with the common wild poppy ... any hope of making a caring attitude and to be bent too early ... may succeed even more many fragrant, bright summer days, the wild poppy, so it is strengthened by the rain, the wind never forget how to dance ... (Em 03/09)
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