This borrowed car a scent it keeps

This borrowed car, a scent it keeps,

Of stale air and a floral spray.

Beneath the seat, where dust now sleeps,

A plastic friend had gone astray.

A tiny T-Rex, green and worn,

A fragment of a different play.

A silent guest, since it was born

To ride the roads and drift away.

The worn upholstery, soft and deep,

The engine's hum, a steady drone.

What quiet stories does it keep,

When it is driven out alone?

I leave it tucked, a small surprise,

Beneath the seat, where it was found.

Reflected in the window's eyes,

The passing, unremarked ground.