Beneath the skin, a river flows,
In crimson hues, through veins it goes.
A silent symphony, a life’s embrace,
Blood, the essence, a vital grace.

Through every beat, it whispers low,
The secrets of our hearts to show.
In every drop, a story told,
Of lives entwined, both young and old.

A scarlet tide, relentless stream,
In dreams it courses, a fervent gleam.
The pulse of life, in steady rhyme,
Marking the passage, the march of time.

Blood, the bridge ‘tween life and death,
In every heartbeat, every breath.
A testament, a sacred part,
The crimson thread that binds the heart.