The Magic Carpet

The Magic Carpet

 

Little Tommy lay still in his hospital bed.

In the drugged misty drowsiness filling his head
He sees, slowly emerging from a golden haze
A shadowy shape that captures his curious gaze.
A small tank engine, golden funnelled and bright blue
Penetrates the fogginess and comes into view.
The Magic Carpet’ is emblazoned as its name
With two following carriages, coloured the same.
The little train draws to a halt by his bedside
And smoky steam billows as the tank engine sighs.
A carriage door is instantly flung open wide
And, he knows not how or why, but now he’s inside
In wonder, he sees a resplendent dining car
More unbelievable than any seen thus far.
Tables adorned with dazzling linen shining white
And with sparkling glass and silver cutlery bright.
Plates, piled with his favourite foods were all around
And he looks and longs and hungers without a sound.
It was ages since eating anything called food
And reawakened appetite lightens his mood.
His eyes lift up above the feast and looking around
He can neither see anyone else nor hear their sound.
Then the engine whistles and with a sudden shock
It sets off, rocking and swaying along its track.
Past Mummy and down through the silent children’s ward
Out through the big doors and into the corridor
Down past the nursing station standing on the right
And through the door at the end into joyous light.

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