The Spirit of the Wild West
The West wasn’t won by luck—it was carved by determination and hard work.
Beneath the vast and painted skies,
The prairie whispers soft goodbyes,
A crimson blaze where shadows creep,
In twilights arms, the cattle sleep.
The cowboy, worn and weathered fine,
Sips coffee strong, a man divine.
He leans against his trusty steed,
As dusk unfolds its tranquil creed.
With every star that starts to glow,
He recalls the trails he used to know.
A lifetime etched in leathered skin,
In stories told neath the skys broad kin.
As night descends, the world grows still,
He feels the pulse of natures thrill.
The prairie™s last light, a fleeting fight,
A valiant heart embracing night.
Copyright © 2025 Randy Salars
All rights reserved
All rights reserved
