Digging through Legos, looking for the perfect piece: falling green, neon, with some orange.

     I tried explaining that to my mom when she asked why I     

     couldn't just leave them in the bin instead of making a huge 

     mess, but she didn't get it.

My mom talking to my baby sister as she cleans up the kitchen: 7 purple.

     I like the color of her voice, and it's warm like my blanket

     fresh out of the dryer.

The groaning swingset as I pretend I'm flying to Neverland: tired orange.

     Like the last yawn before a sunset closes its eyes and drifts 

     off to sleep.

Mr. Hau's garden, humming the harmony to the waterfall's tune: splashes of ice blue, medium pink, and bright-dark green.

     I would watch the koi fish for hours, but Emily gets bored.

The water softener sighing in the basement: wet yellow.

     It always startles me, even though I know when it will go off.

The whirring of the rewinding VHS tape: soft red, but not pink.

     It's old and slow, and my finger has a dent from the button 

     by the time it's done.

The orchestra warming up for the third time today: off-white, then a pretty orange.

     Mom asks if I want to watch something other than Fantasia 

     2000, but I look at her like she's crazy.