Red is the color of the blanket I was covered in when I woke up to our new neighbors greeting my parents. I was on the couch, the were ten feet in front of me with the front door wide open, and a kid I'd seen at school that day holding back a laugh.
Orange was the color of his new car, an old Beetle his grandfather gave him. Orange was the color of the car we had our first date in, at the drive-in eating ice cream on the hood of the car in the freezing cold fall air.
Yellow was the color of the sun and the leaves when we ran into each other at the park the next day.
Green was the color of the bushes he though it would be funny to jump out from behind, on our way to a haunted house weeks later.
Blue was the color of my lips after our snowball fight the first day it snowed in The Smokey Mountains. Blue was the color my lips were not after we'd settled in his car before the drive home.
Indigo was the color of flowers he sent me for Christmas, since he was out of the state.
Purple was the color of diamond that was on the ring he proposed with on New Years Eve.