The Poppy Fields by Penny Luker
The incessant rain dribbled down the back of her neck but it could not make her feel worse than she already did. What was the purpose of standing here with all these wilting paper poppies, remembering people who had been dead for so many years? She was only here because her grandmother had wanted it.
There was a field of poppies laying on and around the cenotaph. They were cartoon poppies, just poor imitations, surrounded by lots of serious looking people and some fidgety youngsters.
She thought of poppies as they should be, dancing to the song of the wind on their delicate stems. She remembered how she had run with her boyfriend through the poppy fields, with the sun shining on their backs and how they had found such delights with the blood red poppies shielding them from passers by.
The silence was over at last. She made to go, but a woman as old as her grandmother stopped her.
“Thank you for coming and showing that you care. So few youngsters understand now, how we loved our men and how we miss them still, even though we’ve had another life since then.”
Suddenly she understood why she should be at this service. Her grandmother had come every year to remember her love, lost in the war and today as her grandmother lay in hospital recovering from an operation, she was standing in for her.
She took her poppy from her coat, kissed it gently and placed it with the other beautiful poppy tributes. Then she turned to go home to her boyfriend. She understood about love.
Penny is the assistant writings editor at ATG. She writes poems and short stories and her work is being published in an anthology later this year. She has had some educational material published by Cheshire Education Services. She is the press officer for her local branch of Soroptimist International and enjoys her work as a part time lecturer for the Open University.
