Drabble Dabble

D9

I still crave the poppy wrapped in foil.

The vision stretches like a hallway

where there are no peripherals

to allow the turning of left or right.

The fumes that danced in the air

and loved in my lungs

exposed a curious darkness.

The soul saunters over

into a different plane

Into a field of red

where the child's skeleton remains

It takes the marrow

turns it into currency for the Charon

But all the bones

do not guarantee a round trip

Follow the flower or know there is more to interpret.

Ductile metal

now burned unto the tattered brain.