Junkyard

Flourescent
Snake’s coil.
Iridescent
Spot of oil.
Broken mirror’s
Flash and glare;
Rotten smell
Demon’s lair.
Yesterday’s memories
Smashed and broken,
These things
Have Spoken.

Bent cars
No longer speed
Down roads,
Past trees.
Broken vase
Held flowers;
No longer
Holds power.
Car seat
On its side,
On which children
Used to ride.

Now these
Make way
For new inventions
Of today
For future Junkyard
Of future day.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 12
Sheridan, Oregon