Coquelicot...


For years now, I keep on saying that I am a potted plant because I have been wandering around the world since the age of five. I have no roots, I have never had a steady place to call my own, and now I do not want to own one. My base is myself, and I am content. It has come to a point that moving is not only part of my life, but it is my life; a life instilled into my body and soul so deep that not moving is not an option. I tried hard to stay put, to stay in one place; and I realized that I am not happy that way. My spirit is gloomy, and my soul has difficulty enduring the confinement of staying put. I believe that I am more of a poppy than a potted plant. I adapt easily to my environment, wherever that happens to be. 

Poppies come in different colors, they are resilient.
Each generates a distinct aroma.
Poppies grow everywhere,
From the mountains of Himalaya
To the plains of California.
They grow in Iceland
And they travel to Thailand.
They can be found in Spain,
And they settle in to the heat of Bahrain,
They adapt to whichever weather nature throws at them.
It could be in Somalia,
And yet you can pick them in Antarctica.

I am a poppy.

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