“Remember
Red” was what she said
Right
before she dropped off, dead
Why
that color? Why that hue?
What
were we supposed to do?
Proper
nouns cannot be heard
Though
they be one’s dying word
Later
on though, we came to know
Red
was a man, lived down the row
He
was her lover and her friend
Their
secret she kept ‘til the end
He
wept when he heard she had died
And
left flowers at her graveside
But,
before long, Red died too
‘Cause
that was what he had to do
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