Just an Old Cowboy

Just an Old Cowboy ragged and worn

stains on his shirt with jeans thin and torn.

He moved kinda slow and talked slower still       Old Cowboy 2

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.          

                                                                        Hansi Riley

5 thoughts on “Just an Old Cowboy

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