Just an Old Cowboy ragged and worn
stains on his shirt with jeans thin and torn.
but none of this fooled me
cause he’d tamed these wild hills,
and no man could make it
to his age in these parts.
Without being rugged and unless he was smart.
I entered his cabin and was looking around
he signaled me over, to come sit down.
He rubbed the fingers of misshapen hands
as rough and gnarled as the lay of the land.
He gazed out the window as he started to speak
It was obvious he was going back in time.
He spoke of his horses and then of his wife
reminiscing bout good times they’d had.
He spoke of hardship, trouble and strife
that was all a part of the Cowboy life.
He spoke of his family who’d brought him such joy
his beautiful daughters, the birth of their boy.
His eyes teared up and he turned away
saying; ’Loosing my wife,
took the best part of me, that day.’
Well I lost my Old Cowboy in his 86th year.
I still have his picture, and even now I can hear
his gravely voice, see those twinkling eyes.
I still visit his mountain, cause that’s where he lies.