By nothing but the transmission tunnel
Which sits between the car's front seats
One worriedly looks at the other
And tells them to take a break, to relax╴
That they've worked so hard,
Done so much╴
That they should enjoy
what they can
before their time
runs out.
The Future on the left (from the backseat)
Hands tightly gripping the wheel
On the verge of falling asleep if no one is there
to keep him up.
The black in his hair slowly fading to gray,
The boldness in his laugh slowly fading
away.
The past on the right (from the backseat)
Fingers drumming semi-frantically
On the verge of falling asleep if no anxious voices are there
to keep her up.
The brightness in her eyes slowly growing tired,
The brashness in her speech slowly growing
tame.
And as the Future tosses the Past the keys
across the hood of the car, he turns to
discover that what he dreaded most has
come to pass,
and that the only thing that had
separated Past and Future
was the transmission tunnel
which sits between the car's front seats
and time
--Charlotte B., 9th-12th Grade