He molded it, ever meticulous, to his liking
Handcrafted with nimble fingers and innocent delight
Painted almost lovingly with tints of apple red
A slender train, with fragile wheels, rolling into the night,

Over makeshift hills, past delicate greens
A spark of life in a plastic-perfect scene
With one finger on the back, gives a nudge
It carelessly glides, disregarding eyes so keen

Sleek dash of red moving faster through the course
With the swift precision of each digressing turn
But alas, cruel fate steals the heart’s treasures and
He prepares to watch the fruit of his creation burn,

Halfheartedly lets go to let it run its steam
Waves a slow goodbye as though its never coming back
He gives a sad smile, wipes the tears from His eyes
And God pushed the screaming passengers off the track