Velvet wings of butterflies brush past my dream-like existence.

Yellow magic-marker sun,

Blue felt sky,

White cotton clouds attached with "fun-tak."

An ant carries a crumb three times its size.

Under a pink-blossomed tree,

I sit,

And consider,

Anything.

Everything.

Nothing.

Yards away,

Voices in triumph,

Volleyball game,

Intrude upon the silence of sunset.

Ladies dressed in faded blue

Pick through picnic waste

On a quest for empty soda cans.

Can life be that cruel?

A voice I hear,

One I once knew is near, but

I do not turn.

Yes, life is cruel.