“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