A Dash Through The Night

[Terry]

I posted this before, in the old forum (I think) under members poetry, it was written to hopefully recite at the Australia day recital we have, as lots of children go there, but so far I still haven't got around to it. - It did win an open competition that was open all styles of poetry - Terry

A DASH THROUGH THE NIGHT

Asleep in his bed on this dark stormy night,
his mother now shook him which caused quite a fright.
She told him to dress; he must get on his bike,
and ride to the farmhouse of people called Pike.

While thunder was booming and lightning flashed near,
the frightened young boy was soon shaking with fear.
The desperate pleading he saw in her eyes,
now touched his young heart and then silenced his cries.

So frightened by darkness this boy who’s just eight,
now looked at his mum and then saw her sad state.
She gave him a hug and then kissed his white face,
then gives him a torch, and then said he must race.

He climbed on his bike heading off down the track,
through puddles and potholes too scared to look back.
He rode in the dark his young heart wildly racing,
with lightning and thunder his fear all embracing.

As swift as the wind he charged on through the night,
five miles he must travel by feeble torch light.
Across a small river his balance near gone,
with lots of good fortune, he somehow stays on.

The branches of trees that grow next to the track,
are waving like monsters about to attack.
Reflected in puddles when lightning now flashes,
as off through the darkness the young rider dashes.

Through rain and then hail, the young boy must keep going,
across tiny creeks where fast waters are flowing.
He’s covered in mud in between cleansing showers,
despite his fast riding, it seems to take hours.

Away in the distance the farmhouse is sleeping,
as through the house paddock the youngster comes sweeping.
The dogs are soon barking and lights now appear,
a welcoming beacon to lessen his fear.

They rush out to meet him, a man and his wife,
there’s tears in his eyes from this ride of his life.
He’s drenched and bedraggled when viewed at the door,
and white as a sheet, but he’s frightened no more.

The boy has grown up and is now an old man,
his mother was saved by the risk that he ran.
This is a true story; when phones were quite rare,
and I was the youngster, who lived that nightmare.

******
© T.E. Piggott June 2010

[Maureen K Clifford]

Remembered reading this before Terry - liked it then and like it just as much now - a stirring poem of a brave little boy..overcoming his own fears to help his Mum....well done

Cheers

Maureen

[Terry]

Hi Maureen & Marty,

Thanks once again, I sometimes think that true stories are the best ones, this one is still indelibly imprinted into my memory.
I have posted it here to try and help boost the numbers that are posted here in this our newish forum, not sure if the old one will ever be fully functional again.

Terry