By the highway, wooden crates
darkened and splintered
empty or nesting a little family
of moss, something breathing,
a lost ghost, an abandoned promise —
anything that would fit.
And surrounding, autumned trees,
a brook, gas station sign,
rows of corn rolls of hay
under a matte gray sky.
From my worn velvet seat,
I see Charlie smiling, eyes closed.
Grace Ma is a second-year student at the University of Toronto, double majoring in English and Environmental Sciences. Visit Grace’s website: www.thehumblewatermelon.wordpress.com