History of a poppy

A few days ago, on the edge of the garden to the street, was born a poppy. Solitary, red with a gradient tending to purple. Maybe it was one of the seeds that years ago we laid in the grass, perhaps his suit has been brought by some bird or dragged from the water.
The nature is incredible. Nothing is lost: what the hand of man has sown but also the damage he has done. The years go by, and you’ll find the track of what you have left.
In this case, a small red flower.


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