Rolling about, their different skins flashing –

Some pure yellow, a goldish hint,

sunshine bright captured within a globe.

Others darker still, almost orange,

solemnly gazing up at the world.

Then the children, pale and green

with a hard surface and a sly grin.

Finally – the odd one out, his color

tinted and flecked with brown,

his insides spoiling, his outsides rotting.

In the basket, they bounce and roll,

together, at least for the moment.