what’s next?

Set at its station where this tale is began
Was a little girl with a bow on her head
Turn to face mother her pretty head did
Yet “ Are we there yet ?” was what she inquired instead of “ what will I be ?”
An endearing smile answered the child’s impatience
For it was the twelfth time pass the hour that she pressed
“ Not yet ” said the mother while lightly patting her on the head
“ look out the window, and tell me what you see instead”
Flashes of the meadows and lakes
They met her eyes to her content
The tracks however lead the little girl to her own dream instead

Stories so small
Little treasures worth telling
Through the cracks of the tracks
Or the chatter of the carriages
Made true a stop
For possibilities of all tales
To reach its destinations merrily

Now Forever Still

“Interesting” crooned the curious reader
This tells more of a tale then a riddle
Refers naught to any dining whatsoever
Hmmm … Changed the form of riddle had
Challenging but hardly unfair

A little girl’s memory tracked from a station
Must be referring to the infamous Victoria Station