The Flying Scotsman

At night, as I lay in bed with my head on the pillow

It feels like cold glass

And if I press my ear hard enough against the pillow

I can hear the sound of a train

The click of the tracks, the wind, and the crackle of the coal

The sight of the rain is soothing

But I sometimes mistake the rain for tears

The sound of the steam engine is like a soothing voice

Laying me to rest as my body rocks back and forth

And as everything starts to settle

I see her there, trying to wake me

Her hand resting gently on my cheek, brushing the tears away

And her smile, greeting me as I come back to life

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