A Train of Thought

There is this train that steams by at the oddest hours. Not a normal every day train. This train you can't see but I know it is there. It passes by often and is crammed full of fabulous things. It has open carriages, which are painted bright red. Open so that you can see in them easily and pick out what it is that you want. 

The train chugged by my bed last night, and stopped just on the far side of my pillow. I was nearly asleep but I heard it pull up, all hissing steam and squealing brakes.  I could see through the dark it was crammed full of fabulous lines that would fit perfectly into the part of my book I am working on. These fabulous thoughts just sat in their blazing red carriages, and begged me to stir; to sit up and take note. 

"Flick on the light and write us down," they implored. "If you don't, we'll just go and find somebody else..."

"I'll remember you all - fear not..." I say to them.

"You are far too fabulous to forget," I add, clamping my eyes shut, reciting the fabulous lines in my head over and over again.

I hover beneath a fine blanket of sleep, and can hear the train chug away into the night; into that ethereal land of creative abundance from where it first came. Even this far away I can hear it change tracks and I know its journey is far from over. It searching for  someone who will turn on the light and relieve it of its valuable cargo. 

I wake in the morning - empty headed and full of regret.