Hollow Sky

There are shadows on the swings
and the wind slips past the slide.

Nearby,

the empty teeter-totter
bangs against the half-frozen sand.

Somewhere,

floats the scent of dead leaves
and rotting autumn apples.

Somehow,

broken green glass
pokes through the grass.

Someone,

sprayed graffiti on the sidewalk
and the colours bleed onto the cement.

                                                                                    And you know that

those fallen sandcastles
and those forgotten toys

were left behind

by the woman on the bench
with her hand on her stomach.

Elizabeth Nash is a student at Western University. She has been published on Sparknotes.com, in What If? Magazine, and has received awards on the regional and district level from the Sears Drama Festival.