I’ve always loved the color red

A snowy afternoon
by the time of Christmas.
The heaven is dark, but
millions of lights are glittering
from every street,
every building,
in the city

I’m twelve,
or maybe even fourteen,
a most sensitive age for a girl,
who still hadn’t been kissed
or looked for.

“Ah”, I say,
and stop in front of
the large store-window
“Look, mom, what a beautiful red coat!”

I can hear her frown when she says:
“You, who are so insignificant and gray,
shall not wear red.”

Later on I get a new winter coat,
a gray one, with a collar buttoned
up to the chin.

And I can still feel the pain.

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