A baby’s cry is bright, 

                                    blazing blue like the tears falling down their face and the sadness of blue.

White moves,

                     in a big gust of wind all together at once moving and affecting everything with it. 

Mischief smells like,

                                   a rotten tomato left in an old cabinet that no one likes or should do/eat.

The texture of turquoise,

                                         feels like the back of a turtle shell, smoot but can be rigidity. 

A new idea,

                 feels like a smoothed over ball of clay that is smooth and soft.