The Train

It was cold and snowy,
The sky was dark purple and red,
The peaks looked black and white,
As I glanced up ahead.

The train was headed for the mountains,
In a far off land,
With anxious anticipation,
I chose to sit rather than stand.

In the dream, I was riding on the train,
And instead of standing in the convertible car with the view,
I waited inside of the warm one,
Resting cozily in the caboose.

I hadn’t bothered to snap pictures,
Because I planned to take them upon arrival,
Only this train wasn’t headed there,
It was a horse without a bridle.

My stomach sunk,
As I realized I missed the opportunity,
Never to return again,
I had completely failed to capture the best scene.

I was sheltering myself,
Staying in my comfort zone,
Thinking that “When I arrive,
I will then get up and roam!”

Sometimes our trains,
Don’t lead to the destination which we desire direly,
And to wait for that to happen,
Is to miss the trip entirely.

Don’t go through life,
On autopilot,
Waiting for life to begin,
Once it aligns with a particular eyelet.

Each day has beauty in it,
So enjoy all the views,
Don’t wait for the destination,
To venture away from your pew.

That way if you never make it there,
You won’t feel like you missed out,
Cause you got the most from each day,
You enjoyed the path along your route.

© Regina Mast 2016

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