A Fading Dream

• Rebecca Geddes, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2014

Not a breath of wind rustles the leaves,
Nor a single bird calls its song to the sky.
Silently, stockmen await their prize,
A readied trap, a tightened girth.

A rumble is heard from afar, the world awakens!
Suddenly, the brumbies are here!
A thunder of hooves, a swish of tails.
Their wild eyes gleaming with mischief, intelligence, spirit.

Stockmen yell, horses foam, but to no avail
Capture the wild spirited brumbies they could not.
Even their prize, pale as the moonlight, Silver Stallion of the South,
Could not be captured, eluded all, guiding his herd to safety.

A gleam of coats in the last rays of sunset
Was all the stockmen saw.
As quickly as it came, the moment passed, the brumbies gone.
A dream fades, as silently as it begins, lingering only with fading memory.