Red

~Red~

She walks through white snow on red bottomed soles, wind in her hair worn like a bow, messy and strays everywhere,
Her lips red and full like spring cherries in the garden, waiting to be picked by her angels kiss,
Feet are numb with no socks on and her toe nails are painted red, waiting for spring to come.
Red.
The night she danced in a grand ballroom, the feeling in her chest, heart pumping and she was out of breath,
Red.
Never letting go, picked by her angels kiss,
His heart her's and he's gripping her hips,
Red.
Burning passion, summertime sadness, and high fashion.
Walking with her arms locked in the white wintertime snow, never freezing cold, blue flames roasting ribs wrought with her favorite rose' marinade,
Red.
Passionate, intimate, delicate but never fragile.
Heart's pounding, out of breath, but she's too fast.
She walks through the white snow on red bottomed soles, wind in her hair, messily worn like a bow going anywhere,
Her lips full and red like spring cherries, passion burning hot enough to melt the white snow she treads upon,
Feet are numb but her heart carries her on, waiting for spring to come.
She's passionate, intimate, delicate but never fragile,
Beautiful, to be cherished, never taken for granted.
Red.

~Finn D'Amore.