why do you like red, sister?

i met her on a cold winter night,

she was standing there silently,

which by chance, has caught my sight.

cerise, was her name when i approached most instantly.

she was most fragile i've ever seen,

as if a gust of wind could blow her away,

but in her red jacket and blue jeans,

she stood strong and never sway.

"do you know what red is?"

isn't it simply a colour?

"be wise, open your mind, let your eyes see.

there's more to a colour, to what it stands for."

i stared at her, unable to understand,

as she stared back with her ruby red beads,

and let out the softest sigh, like feather that lands,

she whispered her words, and guided me where it leads.

"red is the colour of love,

but also, the colour of blood.

as if to love is to wound yourself,

and cause you to bleed yourself.

child, you must not be blind,

for it will capture you it will bind,

yet cherish it to your heart content,

because you know how deeply it meant."

have you ever loved?

asked i without a pause.

"yes, indeed i have loved,

but it wasn't warm, it was cold."

you bled?

"i bled."

sister, why do you like red?

"it reminds me of the one i'd met."

and she disappeared,

on that cold winter night,

left me of what appeared to be,

a bouquet of rose of red.