All that remains…

A browning apple core lies at the bottom of his lunch bag.

Its ripe smell waiting to escape the small confined area.

Five crumpled goldfish are the only survivors

from a sea of so many more. 

Their broken bodies struggle to stay in their safe plastic haven,

avoiding a tumble into a cup of half-eaten raspberry yogurt. 

Smears of soy butter cling to one side of bunched up wrap. 

They leave a bit of themselves behind

with every bounce and swing on the trek home. 

Wads of tinfoil, with virtually no control of their own destiny,

greedily guard the last traces of rich milk chocolate

that still sweetens his young breath.