They're the color of organized chaos.
Of intelligence and bright ideas and always knowing what to do.
The color of fresh cut grass.
Of summer leaves rustling in the wind and quiet rain storms and new beginnings.
The color of peace.
Of deep breaths and warm coffee and enough sleep.
She snaps her fingers twice and her gaze the color of emerald fire
Of poise and elegance and grace.
pierces him from across the table, one eyebrow raised for the 'what the hell are you doing?' effect.
He sticks out his tongue at her and makes a ridiculously stupid face because he's five years old, and of course he was paying attention, why wouldn't he have been?
Then she smirks the way she always does when she knows she's right and she has to bow her head so no one sees her trying not to laugh.
The renewed humor lights up her face and they're the color of the depths of the ocean.
Of mystery and exotic unknowns and adventure.
He smiles because they're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.