The Redness in Your Cheeks

You asked me what I love,

Remember that?

The day we were sitting on the high cliff,

far off in the mountains,

beyond the green hills,

The cliff that is above trees, valleys, hills, and everything else,

From there, one can see the falling yellow leaves,

the lush green meadows, the declining golden sun that spreads its last rays

on the sky, as if to say, to harbinger,

The transitory nature of life, yet how beautiful it is!

Ah! I remember it now, you said, how you love to watch,

the sun that goes down, beautifying everything on the horizon,

giving them spirit, a soul, a life, a last breathe before darkness covers it her dark frock,

You said those were the true colors you love, of the last time.

And when the sun declined, you asked me again,

Of my love of colors,

you wondered I would say white because it symbolizes the peace

But your guesses were shattered when I said Red!

Redness of flowers before they turn yellow, grey, and dark

Redness of blood, that dissolve the angularities of race, casts, and religions,

Redness in the morning sky that gives hope and a new life

And redness of the setting sun, because it gives you solace

But of all these things,

I love the Redness of your cheeks,

Not because that it satisfies my aesthetic sense, or make me averse to other colors in faces,

But because red is the true color that does not distinguish, divide, belittle or elevate us,

But tells us that deep down, we are all the same.