Poppies

Glowing with the sunset,
Vivid fiery light.
Ruby embers fill its cup,
Brimming over, bright.

In Flanders Fields they blew,
Making promise shine,
China abbhors thought of it,
Filthy wicked, grime.

Purest, sweet red flowers,
Holding venom near,
Are you right gone wrong, or,
muddled, turning clear?