Up on poppy hill they say, where no animal makes a sound.
No children wander off to play, just poppies all around.

If I recall between you and I, In that bright red field of flowers.
Like a crimson wave, a scarlet sea, hides stories full of powers.

For it was up on poppy hill, you know, in the red fields there yonder.
Where you might see the lonely widow, as she often starts to wander.

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I was too young, with a full life ahead 
An accident, a crash, and now I am dead
Jordan,.. Jordan Jenkins was my name
Now in a different realm I must remain
To my family, loved ones, and friends that I knew
I scrigned, I blinked, and loss my time with you
Cherish your time now, this life aint a game.

However sad it is, and sad it must be
Know that I have new friends now 
And I am in goo...

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The air was thick with ghosts, ghosts from Greece, ghosts from Rome, and modern ghosts from home. 

There were ghosts of tradition, ghosts of faith.  Illuminated were many ghosts but no wraiths. 

Her plumped lips were beckoning all and we tried to admit nothing, not the ghosts, not her, nor I.
None of us were living, except the ghosts, and none were willing to die.  

My heart pounded like...

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