It would be vivid orange because that is her favorite color.
The color of her; Always bold and sometimes jubilant with laughter.
I'd make my baby sister a blanket to lay on her bed and keep her warm throughout winter.

Her room is always coldest.

On the ends their would be tassels.
Some black, bright blues, vivid greens and pinks. Everything to represent her many sides.
She can be anywhere from caring baby blue
to frank and
unsparing

Black.

I am always the cold one in the family.

Yet, even when she doesn't show it, she is the one who always needs a hug and something--
or someone
to hold her.

When I am off to college the orange blanket can keep her company at night, like I have so many times before.

I'd leave it on her bed,
folded,
with a note that told her to call when the blanket wasn't enough.

Sometimes she would still feel alone,

But I hope it could hold at least the representation
of
     a
         friend.

When she hurts, it's soft sides can hug her.
When she is happy, almost unknowingly,
It can still rest upon her unweighted shoulders.

Isn’t it funny,
How the seasons warp us the way they do the trees.
The way winter brings gray and spring brings blue.
Some of us returning smiles to the sun,
But a sorrow comes with the edge of winter.

And then the coin turns

Where a glimpse of relief comes with the frigid cold that bites at your begging breath.
But the heat brings on a longing for night times faded favors.

Isn’t it funny
How some of us love the rain,
But can’t bear to be alone with lightning.
Where peace of mind comes with thunderstorms to one,
But light blue and open sky’s are what brings the outward stretch of arms and gleaming smile to a neighbor.

Isn’t it funny
How the seasons warp us—
The way they do the wind.

If I ever move I will miss Texas’s grass.
Most people hate it.
But on a hot summer day if you lean in and breathe deep through your nose and into your lungs
you will smell why I love it.
It's like hay sprinkled with sugar and topped off by honey thats been slowly roasted
by the heat of the sun.
It smells like all my summers
all my life.

It’s cold out,
But I want to lean over the side of my bed, grab my blue flannel pajama pants from last years Christmas, And slip them up my skinny legs for a drive.

I would pass up the dim, street-lit highways to arrive at the airport.
I would leave a note on the granite counter top for ma, to explain that it was desperate times escorting my desperate measures.

I would arrive at the gate with my flannel pants, my mobile diary, and my heavy hanging shoulders with my puffy tired eyes.
I would board my plane, eat my peanuts, and since it's Thursday and Thanksgiving is a weeks past, spread myself out across the row of emptied seats.
I would get two hours of rest to wake up with frost on my side window, and the snow of Denver to keep my chilled company.

There I would board my bus for my fourtyfive minute adventure to Boulder.
Thats where we would meet, you with your Audrey Hepburn hair and perfect pearl smile,
A cup of coffee in your left hand and a cup of cocoa in your right.
Me with my flannel pajamas and oversized jacket
With nothing else to offer--except for my presence.

We wouldn’t say much
Just giggle and give some hugs in the dead of Colorado’s bitter beautiful nights,
Before heading to where you call home to cuddle and hide from the rest of winter.

Tomorrow came,
And it kept on raining.

I thought I saw the soft edges of the clouds part
I thought I saw the sun pushing its way to the surface of the sky.
That day it seemed like we had moved forward.
We had pushed past—
We really could be storybook friends,
Hand in hand,
Forever.

Then tomorrow came
And the sun retreated.
The small slice of sunshine reverted back behind the clouds.
Dark,
Unforgiving,
And undercover.

It kept on raining.

The sun came out
With wispy clouds
That tickled at its face.
I wasn’t ignored
I wasn’t acknowledged.
We went from close
To comfortable
To something less
Than acquaintanceship.

The sun battled to keep its face shining,
But the clouds outnumbered the sun;
They turned dark and maroon,
They screamed through thunder
And thrashed through lightning.

The sun gave in
Beaten and defeated.
And the days just kept on raining.