Under the Broken Moon: Reflections on Imperfect Beauty

It wasn’t the land that made cowboys—it was their untamed spirit.

Under the broken moon, we roam,

With shadows cast on Texas loam,

The night air whispers tales untold,

Of imperfect beauty, brave and bold.

A buckskin horse with spirit high,

Gallops forth under the starlit sky,

His mane a tapestry of wild grace,

Together, we find our rightful place.

The crackling fire, a friendly light,

Illuminates the rugged night,

We toast to scars that tell our truth,

A bond forged strong in the fires of youth.

As dawn breaks soft, the world anew,

With broken dreams, yet skies of blue,

We ride forth, hearts open wide,

For beauty lies where the imperfections abide.