My cotton candy blue eyes squint and
hide from the flow of orange marmalade
that drips off of big and burning Mr. Sun.

Splat! Splat! drums my stubby hands as I
play patty cake with the sticky sticky mud
that pools underneath green skyscrapers.

I like to come here and visit the fuzzy crawlers
and the yellow belly bees, (Don't touch!), and
even the scary green worms. Brother does not...

Brother is orange and wet and hot and sick;
Mr. Sun gives him all the sweet jelly, and
the dust from the coughing metal beasts
is making him ghoulish (or so mommy says).

He pants and he pants like he's finished
a looong race or like he's running away
from Mr. Farmer again, but he picks out
dinner, a tasty, yellow trophy (1st place!).

He looks down and smiles at me as I
make coco-cake to bring to his big party;
his teeth have orange in them too, now.
I wish Mr. Sun dried his eyes like me.