As she dresses her lips
with coats of maroon,
she stares at the tarnish
so beautifully laced on the aged picture of her mother.
Her red hair in a bun,
the Red Delicious she eats is tickled with her lipstick.
To the restroom she goes,
cherry heels clicking as she walks.
Scarlet towel in hand, ready to wash her face,
the lipstick decorating it, as she looks at her bloodshot eyes.
With a cardinal chirping in the cherokee tree,
and the roses growing in the garden.
She holds the burgundy key in her mouth,
as she walks to the crimson Corvette,
covering her key with spots of lipstick.
And by the time she reaches her car,
and The Bee Gee's "Lady in Red starts to play,
Ruby had no more lipstick left on her lips.