My Color Red

This is a poem my poetry professor absolutely loved. He simply raved. Honestly, I don't get it. But I thought I would post it anyways.

Remember the apple orchard?

When we would come home with our arms full of red?

The peels would mirror our smiles

The translucent covering so crisp and sweet

Remember the cold?

Remember the white tears drifting down?

The frosted branches and smooth earth

The warmth of your hands

I remember the way in which you sang

So loud, always off key, always with passion

I remember the way you would race

Refusing to run, taking sweet time

Cheering others as they passed by you

I remember the way you waltzed

Eyes closed and gliding

Remember the sound?

It was so loud, swirling and high pitched

Do you remember the sound?

It suffocated me; I was encompassed by the oppressive ringing.

Defeated

I remember lying on that old air mattress together

You would tell me scary stories then I would make you stay with me all night

I couldn’t breathe when you left

Remember that night?

Remember the red?

It was so beautiful and smooth

I watched its gentle flow

It seeped through my fingers

It could not be held back

It forced its way out unseeingly

It covered my hands, my arms, my face

It matted my hair and seeped into my pores

Do you remember the red? Do you remember how it felt?

I remember how it felt, warm and filmy

I can still smell it, a rusted iron

I remember how it tastes, like hot copper

I can still see it, a brilliant red

The color marveled me, so bright and deep

I gazed in wonder as it leisurely wove its stream into every part of me

Do you remember all that?

No, you don't

I do, I still remember