Red for the Blind: The sense of a color

Many things are said of red,

Lips sultry crimson as a rose bed,

Anger burning red with fury,

And with it some paint the city.

But can one hear, taste, touch,

or even smell it such,

that they may know red,

Through other senses in the eye's stead?

Red can be soft and lush,

As in rouge blush,

It can be sultry sweet,

As when lover's lips meet,

Warm inviting,

With a lusty vibrato it sings,

Putting you at ease,

Its silken caress no tease,

But rather a silky hand,

Making goose flesh to stand,

All upon your neck,

As it gently pecks,

With lush lips full.

That is sometimes it's pull,

Yet other times 'tis not the same,

Red is a color of various fame.

There are times when it sends one,

Screaming into the night as they run,

Sticky, sickly, slickly speaking in a shower,

With just a smattering of its power.

With its drip, drop, dread,

As it pours from the dying and dead,

But a shift in hue,

And look what this color can do.

Red is both lover and fighter,

Able to make heavy or lighter,

'Tis flowers bought and flame forgot, 

'Tis a hue of future bought,

By the history you've fought.