The tall grass stalks tickled my palms as I brushed my palms along their tips.
It was a blissfully warm Sunday afternoon. The sun smiled down on the Shropshire Hills. The birds serenaded the day, and the bees buzzed busily. I saw him, a speck in the distance, waving madly. He bolted through the daisies and marigolds, and met me with such force that we fell back into the mallow. My skirt billowed as I dropped, and my hair whipped forwards. Soon we both lay in a sea of mauve, laughing, and looking into each other's eyes.
"Melissa, will we ever grow up?"
"I highly doubt that Ernest, being young is much more fun."
This cued more laughter, and he placed a tender kiss on my lips. We were truly in love. Nothing could come between us, we said it religiously.
That was in the summer of 1937.
Before the pain of World War Two.
The next colour to take part in this challenge is 'cardinal.'