A crimson carpet, wild and free,
A tapestry of nature's glee.
Red weeds, they dance, a fiery sight,
Against the backdrop of the night.
Their petals, soft as velvet's touch,
A vibrant hue, a fiery clutch.
They sway and sway, with every breeze,
A living, breathing, crimson trees.
In fields of green, they stand apart,
A beacon of hope, a work of art.
A testament to nature's might,
A fiery blaze, a guiding light.
They bloom and grow, with reckless abandon,
A symbol of life, a wild command.
They paint the world with shades of red,
A masterpiece, where beauty's bred.
Beneath the sun, they gleam and shine,
A fiery jewel, a treasure mine.
At dusk, they glow, a crimson hue,
A mystic sight, a wondrous view.
They reach for the sky, with outstretched arms,
A silent prayer, a silent charm.
They whisper secrets to the wind,
A tale of life, a tale to find.
They dance and twirl, a graceful sight,
A symphony of color, day and night.
They bloom and fade, a fleeting show,
A beauty that comes and goes.
Red weeds, they live, they love, they die,
A testament to life's supply.
A fiery force, a wild and free,
A crimson carpet, for all to see.
About the Creator
Moharif Yulianto
a freelance writer and thesis preparation in his country, youtube content creator, facebook
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