red.
red is a fading sunset on the horizon.
it's a burst of flame;
a spray of the fire leaping towards us.
it's the heat of the warm afternoon.
it's the face of an angry teacher.
an embarrassed pupil.
it's a flickering flame of a tiny candle.
it's the spark able to spread the wildfire of love.
red is the color of heat.
it's full of passion.
it's bold.
red won't tolerate injustice.
it's hard and unfortunately stubborn.
red will never give in.
even when it needs to.
red has the brawn of an ox,
the skill of a pride of lions,
even the diligence of a colony of fire ants.
it does not back down or grow weary.
red stands his ground firmly.
it's charming and romantic.
red is like a harvest of fresh raspberries:
satisfyingly and deliciously juicy.
red is optimistic.
red is the color of a rising dawn that glides across the morning sky and through the misty white clouds.
it's the hot july sun, beating down on your entire body, and filling you with warmth.
it's the thorn that gets to prick your fingers when you choose to hold it.
a precious rose, that will always smell sweeter and sweeter than before.
red, by any other name, would still remain red.
YOU ARE READING
a collection
Poetrythis is just a place to save my writing, actually. i don't particularly care if it's ever read.
