Appended below is a poem I wrote when my family and I went for a farm stay in Western Australia in the summer of 2005
A Run Down Springhill Farm
By COL Yeo See Peng, Summer 2005
On a cold quiet summer morning,
Running down a silent path in Springhill Farm,
I encountered a house of bush flies,
Those that I used to see in my childhood’s kampong many years ago,
In a family of eleven.
And I remembered my time in Singapore,
When I used to run down a kampong path, with my brothers, in search of a better life.
And that was Springhill Farm, in rural Perth, in the Australian countryside.
On a cold quiet summer morning,
Jogging down the same silent path in Springhill Farm,
I encountered a ford of paths.
Those that I used to read in an English poem by Robert Frost some twenty years ago,
On a path less travelled.
And I remembered my time in Oxford,
When I used to jog down Christchurch Meadow, with my collegemates, in search of a brighter future.
And that was Springhill Farm, in rural Perth, in the Australian countryside.
On a cold quiet summer morning,
Rambling down the same path less travelled in Springhill Farm,
I countered a mob of sheep.
Those that I used to meet in the English commons some ten years ago,
On an outing of military training.
And I remembered my time in Exeter,
When I used to ramble down the Lympstone Commando Course, with my Royal Marines buddies, in search of honour and glory.
And that was Springhill Farm, in rural Perth, in the Australian countryside.
On a cold quiet summer morning,
Speeding down the same “Commando” path in Springhill Farm,
I encountered a solitary cow.
The one that I used to see in an American farm in recent years,
On a break from studies.
And I remembered my time in Harvard,
When I used to speed down the Charles River bank, with my classmates, in search of intellectual enlightenment.
And that was Springhill Farm, in rural Perth, in the Australian countryside….
#Springhill Farm #Western Australia #Robert Frost