Knows all the types and all their names,
Every buffer, piston, funnel,
Excitement builds as the big day dawns,
Expectant face and stifled yawns,
No bus for us, it’s the train today,
A rare treat to start our holiday,
In the station, eager, bubbling glee,
Can you see, Mum, can you see?!
A train rolls in, it’s not the one,
But no one minds this is so much fun!
Eventually, it’s our turn to board,
All our luggage safely stored,
A window seat, nose pressed on glass,
Watching countryside hurtle past,
First one station then another,
Hard to tell one from the other,
But as the whistle makes one last peep,
My train-mad son falls fast asleep!
Click to read my last poem Ode to Too Much Junk Mail