Scarlet, often mixed in the morning sky.
Through our veins, courses scarlet blood.
Scarlet makes us human.
Scarlet makes us alive.
Scarlet is an apple, just about ripe.
Scarlet rust, wheezing as the train halts.
The clock ticks, the scarlet arm counting down the seconds,
all back to the scarlet blood,
Scarlet, keeping us alive.
Share This PoemTweet
This Poems Story
I'm Lexi Riggs and I'm seventeen. I'm a senior at WCHS. Cheerleading, besides writing, is my passion and has been for the past eleven years. I intend on furthering my writing career through my senior year of high school and through college. This poem was originally a school project. Our assignment was to pick a color and write a ten-line poem about it, in which the color itself had to be used in every line. As shown, I chose scarlet and associated the color with something we can all relate to, life.