A sheet of ice that spans the street, black like darkest slate. From underneath water seeps, through clogged and rusting grate. Bubbles trapped under ice dance despite the cold, as little boots sliding fast can find no proper hold.
Back and forth, ghost like in sheen, the bubbles bounce and bob. Weight is shifted up above. Stomp! That did the job. One bubble popped. White rings are left to mark the impact’s crack. How many can be caught and taught with a well aimed mighty thwack?
“I didn’t put you there!” “But I found a drop of water and just couldn’t resist.” The painter scowled while her bit of Blue blushed and mixed with its cousin Brown. “Well now, we look like mud, and it’s all your fault.” If Brown had had arms, it would have folded them over each other, while holding a scowl on its face. Blue just twittered and slipped farther down the page, touching Green and making the artist see spots. “Oh, the possibilities!” It sung as it fingered out over each water drop touched. “Look, I am just a little happy blue. Can you catch me?” The stop was abrupt at the edge of the page. Blue hung onto jagged fibres. “Now blue, get back over here before you fall.” “Fall? Oh, but to fall!” And fall Blue did, right off the paper on to Artists apron. “Serves it right.” Muttered Brown as it dried and combined with the paper’s elements. “How will I ever learn when the colours never get long?” “Don’t worry,” Whispered Paintbrush. “They will all mature with you. Give them, and yourself time.”