Red is blood and sweat,

the hours turning children to boys and boys to men.

It is the barn

the time spent dreaming up cowboy fantasies.

It’s the bull

who stomps the earth flat ‘neath hard hooves.

It’s dad’s truck

loud as an elephant and tough as a croc.

Red is a small piece of wood

floating in the middle of a  muddy pond

faintly labeled “Maringue”.

We swung from those branches

crawdads pinching our toes.

It is fire

burning up the back yard

my brother standing there holding the match.

It is mamma’s temper

who loved us enough to be angry sometimes.

Red is her hands

raw from hours spent cooking and cleaning and washing and sweeping.

Red is a feeling

a wild child running from fear, from doubt.

It is two lips

beautiful green eyes and a heart full of love.

It is flowers

red on white on smiles .

Red is two rosy cheeks

two brown eyes, two little trusting hands.

It is four more pairs of rosy cheeks

light little feet running on the kitchen floor.

It is a small brick house

a first real home, the rich soil with which to plant memories.

Red is a swing

precious angels crying, “Higher daddy, higher!”

It is a scraped knee

held in father’s arms while mamma kisses it better.

It is roses

red on black on tears

looking back and realizing what you left behind.

Red is hearts

worn, but together ’till the end.

It is a fire like her mother

burning brighter and brighter.

It is the same feelings of fear and doubt

felt all those years ago,

made stronger by age and love.

Red is anger and fighting

closed doors and locked windows.

It is a back porch

gazing at the stars,

praying prayers you’ve never prayed before.

It is two hearts, father and daughter,

knowing that she’ll be taken away,

but reassured by “I love you dad.”

It is those same wedding flowers

Red on white on smiles

and tears.

It is a small car

confetti bouncing on the back

your little girl headed towards forever.

It is a blazing sunset

80 years old and smiling,

held in the arms of afternoon,

knowing you lived in a fairytale.

Red is two lips

smiling one last goodbye.