James grumbled all the way to the works the next day.
"James, will you please just shush?" Asked his driver pleadingly.
"No- just look at me- I'm green! I want to be red again!" He grumbled crossly.
As James stopped at a red signal, he heard another engine coming in the opposite direction.
"If it's Diesel, I'm not in the mood." He said sulkily.
But it wasn't Diesel. It was actually Gordon, passing by with a goods train.
"Gordon? But you hate goods trains." James said in surprise.
"Well usually yes," Gordon admitted. "But this goods train isn't coal or slate. It's actually flowers."
"Flowers?" repeated James in disbelief.
"Yes- but not just any flowers. Look." Ordered Gordon.
Inside the trucks, were rows upon rows of beautiful red poppies. "There's going to be a special ceremony where these poppies will be planted in a special garden." Explained Gordon. "They are to honour those who sacrificed their lives for our freedom."
The signal dropped to green, and the two engines departed.
James soon reached the works where his repaint began.
But a few days later, he chuffed out of the works, with a small green patch on either side of his cab. On each patch were painted two scarlet poppies, each with a black centre shining in the sun like a star.
...
Another request for tate310. Remembrance Sunday is coming up again, so I thought I put in a small tribute here for those who have fallen.