In the morning’s gentle glow, red whispers softly,
A dance of warmth and passion, a vibrant hue,
It paints the sky with brushstrokes bold and free,
Awakens dreams with every breath anew.
Through roses’ bloom and autumn leaves descending,
It speaks of love, of courage, and of fire,
The color of a heart forever mending,
A symbol of a spirit that wonât tire.
In evening’s quiet hush, it softly lingers,
A sunset’s blush, a promise to be kept,
It holds the night with gentle, tender fingers,
A lullaby where stars and wishes slept.
Oh, red, the hue of life in endless motion,
A tapestry of stories yet untold,
It weaves through time, an ever-flowing ocean,
A legacy of warmth and tales of old.