The train was never late,
not in our town.
Track fixed on a surface, brown.
Two lines with sidings
and stations along the way
Three clockwork engines
with wagons to play
Going down two tracks
from east to the west
passing through bridges
built by the best
And Engine made sound,
like the locos of the past
built by a craftsman,
you knew it would last
As you pulled all your cargo,
from city to th’sea
till mum or dad called up
it’s time for your tea!
Inkdrop is freelance writer with a passion for exploring the intersections between nature, architecture, and artistic expression. With a background in computing, and writing – his pen name harks back to when he played around with rhymes and a fountain pen. Now joined by a selection of created photos from an acquired DSLR camera He shares insights with scribblers of all backgrounds. Outside of visiting museums and exploring the latest in exhibits , he enjoys walking through the countryside in pursuit of the next rainbow.
The Inkwell 
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