The Little Train

I am an old steam train traveling along the journey to life. I’m only a small train, just over 5 feet long. I carry many carriages, the carriage of love, imagination, courage, hope, sorrow, happiness, and wealth I carry all with me along my way.

There are so many twists and turns, large mountains to climb, which in return strain all the energy from my fire within my black engine. I have some rusty stops and a few lose breaks that sometimes make the stopping hurt hard.

I have some dents and small scratches from where I have hit something upon the railway tracks. I’ve gone through some dark tunnels over this journey, but none have been as long as the one I’m traveling through right now.

It happened a few miles back after getting to the top of the mountain I just finished climbing. The carriage of love’s breaks must have blown, fore the next thing I knew, I had flown down that big hill and right into a dark tunnel. My headlight is so weak it strains to lighten my way through.

This tunnel is so long, its never going to end. I can see a light now at what seems to be the end. It’s getting so bright, I can, not see where I am going. Oh please somebody help me!!! What could this light be?????

I can hear squealing and there are red, hot sparks flying.

What just happened?? There is a disturbing silence, and I can hear hissing in the distance. Oh the pain, how it hurts!!!

Oh hell, I just hit another steam train. Their damage I can’t tell. It’s just only me that I can see. I have lost some of my loads, poor carriage of love I can see up above the carriage of hope.

With only a few sobs, sorrow explodes in fight of my tears. The pain is unbearable, my poor little train, has been run off the thin steel tacks.

My, my how time seems to fly by!! I don’t seem to know how that train could just go. I’m left all alone, with my over blown, junky, old load.

As I pick up my spilt load, I try not to overload that carriage of love. Heaven only knows that such a little thing could bring this onto me. I hook my carriages back up, and get back onto those damn rails, and I slowly move off with a squeak and tiny little beep.

The sooner I get out this dark tunnel, the quicker I can repair and mend my leak in sorrow.

Someday, I’ll find the station I’m traveling towards.


Copyright © Bronwyn Theresa Bell 2004