Red

I dream of red apples
crisp in the fall, sun
hanging high in the afternoon sky
like a rosy tomato
succulent, bursting with life, blood
coursing through well-worn channels,
never to stop
signs of life, dazzling and sparkling wine
tasting Merlot with hints of cherry
jam, laden with sweetness upon my lips.

*This poem came about from an exercise in The Roar on the Other Side by Suzanne Rhodes. 

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