Red is the smell of sweet roses,

Whose petals unfold perfectly to deliver boundless fragrance

It is the face of the sky during sunset on cool summer nights,

Rays flying across the sky, grabbing hold but letting go

Red is the sight of shed blood,

Spilled heartlessly in a dark alley where no eyes watch

It is the smell of cherry pie

Baked on a warm Sunday afternoon in houses other than mine

Red is the taste of rich wine

Poured into elegant curved glasses at parties

It is the curve of teasing lips

Inviting but at the same time out of reach

Red is the flavor of dragonfruit

The subtlety that confounds and welcomes

It is the glimpse of autumn leaves

Falling gently into the arms of weathered grass

Red is the beat of my heart

Pulsing in time to yours

Red.