The Thinking Poet


The Trip That Never Was

The trip that never was

This is the tale of le petit train jaune;

Of a score or more travellers all forlorn

Who paid their euros for "heaven and back"

But travelled no further than the station track.

Two controllers were required,

Whether big or fat, never transpired.

One had reported for duty that day.

The one in Perpignon far away; was he drunk,

ill, or passed away?

Hopes of departure ebbed and flowed.

People unboarded, but nobody knowed

Whether the train would at last depart.

An hour elapsed. We all lost heart.

"Le petit train jaune will not run today!"

The official finally had his say.

Dejected, frustrated, we queued for refund.

The trip through the mountains was never begun.