Poppylicious. They look so delicious. But, noooooooo, it’s just another trick by nature. To tempt, to attract, to astonish, to delight. For when I nibble, the petal like kibble, I find no burst of flavor, no zing, no zest, no hint of orange nor twang of carrot, just a delicate wisp, which gave me a lisp.  It clung to my tongue. I was coming undone.  It made me spurt.  It made me sputter.  The petal was stuck. Was I out of luck?  So with a quick flick, I spit out the trick.  Off I trotted after a butterfly, after a bee, after the wind, I am so free.  I am Ollie.  I am me.


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