By Julie

Blue is a fresh flowery color, like bluebells or blue tulips. A short, sweet, sound. Calm as a pond, but crazy as elecric blue fur on a dog or a panda bear. There should be a shiny metallic-colored blue-ish beetle, just called “The Blue Beetle.”
Blue looks like a bluebird flying against a clear, bright sky. Like a butterfly in a painting by a famous artist. An alien planet in another universe in the blackness of empty space.
Blue sounds short, sound, and sweet. Like a song. Something a baby might say, a baby word. The name of some famous reptile, one that lives in the ocean and eats plants. Calm waves and the noise of the great Nigera Falls.
Blue feels soft and furry, with possibly a few feathers thrown in, too. Like some tiny baby bird. Warm, like the crust of a blueberry pie. The core of some small miracle waiting to be discovered.
Blue smells like freshly picked blueberries in a straw basket, after picking them it the mountain bushes. The armoa of fresh, warm blueberry waffles, and the scent of blue raspberry ring pops. Wonderful smell coming from some piping hot tuna fish for lunch when you’re famished.
Blue tastes like cold salty ocean water from a beach where it’s hot. The bursting taste of flavorful, sweet blueberries on your breakfast plate in the early morning. Like blue raspberry popsicles stright from the freezer.
Everyone needs a little bit of blue in their world. A little bit of paradise. A little bit of magic. Fairy dust is probably blue.
Blue is the third color in America. Blue is a babbling brook. Blue covers most of a globe in school. Blue is a blue spruce tree, never losing It’s needles. Blue is sky, genly topped with fluffy white clouds and big black birds flying south.