My Truck
By Kynan S
Published 16 September 2014
My grandpa made a truck
When I was young he passed it down to me
I was the guardian
A few years later he died
I was left with nothing but sadness
Until I remembered the truck
It’s glorious colours
It’s ever-so-smooth texture
It feels like every time I touch it I can feel
his warming heart
Nothing the truck can hold is as good as him