The Dying Campfire: A Metaphor for a Fading Era

Freedom is found where the dirt road ends and the open sky begins.

embers hiss, the last flames dance,

While echoes fade of youths wild prance.

Old leather boots by ash-strewn ground,

Whisper the tales of a life unbound.

In twilight™s grip, the shadows loom,

A fading fire, a gathering gloom.

Once blazing high, now flickers low,

Reflects the dreams we used to sow.

The cowboy sleeps, his heart a stone,

Bound by the echoes of trails long gone.

With every crackle, the memories stir,

Of lands now lost and a heart to defer.

But as dawn breaks, the shadows flee,

New trails await, horizons free.

Though the fire dims, the spirits light,

Will blaze anew in the morning bright.