Red

A colour of red not seen
Before.
Red Ferraris, red fire engines and
Red-hot lipstick make their presence felt
But No.

A colour of red which one day,
May transcend. Flickers, above red-hot flames
Of an open fire
Burns fast. Burns- becomes -
A fire dance.

Dance alight, to free
An impassioned soul
Searches. Red, does not shout
Her flame, her fame, her glory. Self-ignited,
Oozes confidence. That kind of red.

She imagines Tango
Red. She knows the dance
Has passion, is ablaze. Yet measured, for
He beside her must hold his own
Be not reliant on her, to fill his soul.

Red is not an engine for him to drive
Red drives, directs her own way forward
Red does not need to be told
How to drive, how to dance
Or how to feel.

Do not tell her when she
Needs to accelerate. Red
Knows. When to pause,
Pull back, park. Reposition
And master.

Tango Red
Alchemises fire.
To become the flame,
The spirit of the phoenix,
She has power to regenerate.

Tango Red negotiates power
Her own power
To confidently seek love.
Intuitively, she finds love
She is free to choose love.

Tango Red never combusts
Burns, or destroys another’s pathway
Forward. Red is a force of nature
Naturally, knows her
Own strength.

Red’s instinct is strong
Recognises, recalls, and rewrites
Fearlessness. Tango Red
Turns heads
Self-assuredly, transforming love.
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