the garden was beautiful. colors of purple, blue, and pinks mixed together to create something nothing else could, but one color stood out the most in particular.
RED
the hue symbolic for many things. it was the stain left from ketchup, balloons that were accidentally let go of, roses that folded perfectly together, strawberries grown just right. red was a color that meant different things for different people.
the first thought a child may have with the mention of red is a sweet candy, but for an elder it could be the memory of when a stop sign wasn't there to save their car. with the flash of a single tone, so many perspectives are thrown out on the table.
my mother asked me what my favorite color was. i answered, "red," and she questioned why.
she says it's a shame that a childhood was wasted by the color i had chosen, but when i said, "it's the color of my old rainboots," she laughed. i asked her what she remembered the most about red and she answered back, "your father's eyes,"
the color red should've reminded me of rainboots at the age of twelve, but instead it evoked me of the tint that dripped down my arm every time my father's eyes met mine.
YOU ARE READING
trying.
Poetry"I'm okay ̶ ̶ really, I'm fine," © playlist bangtan boys h.r. : #111 in poetry
