We quarreled, a silly war of words. You ran out. I followed you across the meadow, your youthful and shapely body, silhouetted against a blood red moon. I caught you in a field of poppies.

There were rows and rows of them, like soldiers in scarlet tunics all around us. I picked a bunch, presented them to you as a peace offering.

We embraced and kissed passionately. We were soon naked and laying on the ground as you rode me like a wild steed. We lay in the afterglow and then fell asleep, content for now.

"Je t'aime ma cherie."