Some young beams

Escaped the eye of the clouds,
Forcing their way
onto the bare floor
Like small fries
roused from an ancient cave.

Behind him the burnished ground.
With the orange reflection. 
And tint midgets
On his pinko-grey complexion.

Two eyelids squinted gleefully,
Thin-lips spread pinkly
Revealing a slimy cave
With red rocks housing
White milky stalactites and stalagmites:
White rocks hanging outward and inward,
And a red bed fed with Slimy spittle.

Parallel Lines Push
Back the pinkish earth
Around the slimy cave
As it broke out sound vibrations
That shook his pale body.

With his head cornered backward,
And the torso clad with a flannel shirt,
Each sound of laughter
Brightens his face
To the warmth of the noonday.