Red petals fall in rows so still, Where courage met the bitter chill. No trumpet call, no marching feat, Just hearts that stopped, but won n...

Red petals fall in rows so still, Where courage met the bitter chill. No trumpet call, no marching feat, Just hearts that stopped, but won no defeat. We wear the bloom, we bow the head, In poppy’s glow, we honour the dead. Give me poppy's too

"A photograph depicting a solitary, vibrant red poppy, its delicate petals gently descending in a cascading row against a backdrop of softly blurred, golden wheat fields bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, evoking a sense of quiet reverence and remembrance; the image is styled after the ...