Bathed in the gentle glow of afternoon light, a lone figure stands amidst a sea of poppies, their vermilion heads swaying softly in the summer breeze. Her white dress catches the sun, falling in languid folds that echo the undulations of the meadow. Beyond, a solitary tree leans into the horizon, its foliage a deep emerald contrast to the vivid scarlet bloom. The distant hills dissolve into a haze of mist and light, lending the scene a dreamlike quality. This is a moment suspended — both fleeting and eternal — a quiet communion between woman, earth, and sky, where memory lingers in every petal.
