She plays him
With her finger
A few movements
Seconds

Hundreds of miles away
She lifts him
And then throws him

Into tears he falls
A feather’s worth his pride
Full of doubt

The butterflies on his face
He doesn’t notice anymore

The antelopes in his steps
Only mountain mules

All the little birds
Who whisper his presence
Chatty little fools

He does not hear
The flowers bowing down
Nor the leaves and petals
He everyday walks on

He loves a dream
A nightmare to him
He plays the game
Straight into oblivion
And calls it love

While she...
                      Won’t pick him up again