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.