The speaker tries to describe what a memory of a loved one feels like, and the answer comes as an image: a blue flower shaped like a spear. Right away there's a small, honest stumble. The speaker can't remember the flower's name, which suggests that memory is slippery. The feeling is vivid, but the details are fading.
Then a poppy appears, bold and dripping, with "fire and silk" beside it. Those two words pull in opposite directions: heat and passion on one side, softness and touch on the other. Together they seem to capture the person being remembered. The last line, "And they cover you," is quietly striking. The flowers hide the person even as they stand in for them, almost like a blanket or a grave covering.
The mood is tender, a little wistful, and unsettled. The speaker holds onto color and sensation instead of facts, and the poem shows how love can linger in images even when the words for them have slipped away.