Well... not quite. Sort of.
Today I was en-route to my parents on the 16:50 Northern Rail service to Nunthorpe. I thought I might have been pushing it a bit; what with it being so close to rush hour... but I was pleasantly surprised to find I could have 2 WHOLE SEATS to myself.
All was going fine until we reached Seaton Carew when what should appear in front of the track? Yes. A dead horse. Perfect.
Cut to me 2 hours later STILL SAT THERE. Starving I was. I'd starved myself all day as I was going out for tea, so that proved to be a mistake at the time (although food was lovely when I FINALLY got some).
But... in midst of the 2 hours of people moaning... pondering their life... wondering if they'd make it home for Christmas... (I may have exaggerated the last two a bit, there) I decided to write a little poem. This often occurs on trains for me and I have no idea why.
Perhaps I'm a poet and I don't even know it?
But this is my poem:
There's a chill in the air and a spring in my step,
A smile on my face that's been there since we met.
The stars are shining; so wonderous and bright,
An unmistakenably perfect December night.
The cold on my face, a glove on my hand,
With you in my heart I now understand.
The meaning of tranquility, of love and of peace,
"Joy to the world" on this Christmas Eve.
All it took was one look for it all to make sense,
The perfect yuletide story, no need for pretense.
A symphony of splendour that plays loudly and true,
You're all I need this Christmas; I'm no longer blue.
Dunno who it's about or what. But thank you to the dead horse for inspiring me, innit.
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