It tastes of cherries,
Sweet and freshly picked,
Of cool wind on warm nights,
Of simpler times,
Of the sound of laughter as our thundering footsteps echoed through the streets,
Long after the sun had gone to sleep.

It tastes of copper,
Metallic and bitter,
Of wishing for the nights to end,
Of harder times,
Of the feeling of missing the last step on the staircase,
When I was sure there were none left.

What does red taste like to you?