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by Logan
Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #2182542
... to all things an ending
Brumby [Closure, Part II]

A dream of pale horses
as they canter through the night
Some day they might find me,
maybe, when the time is right

… some time in a distant past,
a dark horse galloped in,
ran the course, and ran it fast,
the races it would win

Unbridled through the furlongs drawn,
ran mostly for itself
Plumbed through depths, the fathom's brawn,
… set shallow, on the shelves

'tween islands small and continents
… the distances between
Sailed through a navy blue,
a merchant, sold and seen

Viewed and bought by many,
returned by some, the same
A dreamer spending pennies,
rules still pending in his game

Like paths carved through a woodland dense
through forests, cycles... tricks
A game of luck, a game of chance,
with thrones made up of bricks

A corrugated cubby hole,
with features welded fresh
Pirate swords cut rough from wood,
the jigsaw pieces mesh

A house of cards set rigid, stands,
some days in hand afar
Jobs completed, cash in hand,
with coins stored up in jars

Trout raised in small reservoirs,
the ones that got away
How we got to where we are,
… it's difficult to say

Maybe somewhere Marty knows,
some dreams are never caught
Reined up, wrapped in rainbows,
some things just can't be bought

Still Shetland ponies run, beguiled,
as fast as legs can check
With TV's shot, reports sound wild,
… a domino effect

With so much guilt, fostered so late,
and pride left on display
With broken plates and tempted fates,
tested all the way

A travelled soul, worn weary... old,
a husk to what has been
A cancer aching in the soul,
… not many moves to glean

As wooden pieces line the board,
chequered brown and white
A King carved pale, 'gainst a horde,
with checkmate soon in sight

A shadow cast in morning's light,
a shell from dusk till dawn
A shade of what has played before,
from memories long born

Established in a timeline proud,
an hour glass blown short
With grains lost spilt, 'tween hairline cracks,
so split... a life abort

A last pained final sunset falls,
a destined, dim... decline,
as certain as the twilight's call,
a drawing down off blinds

Returning to such fields lost,
Elysian, where they play
An opium drove winding down,
… the closing of the day

A dream of wild horses,
with a carriage, darkened... drawn
A prayer sent cross a prairie,
dragging through till dawn

Still leaving without warning,
neither whimper, call nor shout
So silent in the morning
… a pale horse rides out
© Copyright 2019 Logan (stipey at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2182542