The Saddle Left Behind: A Tribute to Work Done and Journeys Ended

The West wasn’t won by luck—it was carved by determination and hard work.

Upon the ridge where shadows play,

A weathered saddle rests in clay.

Its leather cracked, yet stories breathe,

Of distant trails it dared to weave.

In dusty trails where hoofbeats rang,

And cowboys laughed, with courage sang.

Each cinch and stirrup tells a tale,

Of prideful rides and tempests pale.

When sunsets glow on mountains high,

The cowboy pauses with a sigh.

For every journeys end brings peace,

As wind and memory find release.

So raise a glass, let songs ascend,

To saddles left, to journeys end.

In every heart where tales abide,

The spirit rides, forever wide.