They sloppily mixed a collection of
ingredients found in their mother’s kitchen
with bright
food coloring.
The solutions swirled into light pastes,
flour particles still visible,
carelessly mixed.
Paint.

Sprinting barefoot
through soft, sweet green grass
like meadow mice,
Their simple anklets glittered in the sunlight.
Shrill girly screams echoed
through the neighborhood;
It was their first paint war.
Colors were flung aimlessly through the air,
the area newly tye-dyed.
Quick droplets of baby blue
blended into the cool sky
like drippy watercolor on a canvas.

Long hair was worn natural and wild.
Skimpy summer clothes loosely clung
to caramel brown skin.
Sunglasses giggled
And bright white teeth flashed Marilyn Monroe smiles.
All were splattered with noisy colors.

The blood red stains on their foolish attire
and their father’s yard spoiled with a messy coat
were sure to induce a strict scolding.
But thoughts of this never crossed the girls’ minds.
To them it was just pretty paint.