Campfires and Cold Mornings: The Beauty in the Ordinary Moments

The Old West didn’t reward hesitation—it honored those who acted with purpose.

Beneath the stars, the night unfolds,

The campfire crackles, its warmth a hold.

With coffee brewed in tin cups gleam,

A cowboy lives his quiet dream.

The frosty air, a biting kiss,

Yet in the chill, theres muted bliss.

As embers dance with playful light,

Old stories weave through the velvet night.

The dawn is born with colors bright,

The world awakens, kissed by light.

Cold moments shared, a bond so dear,

In simple joys, the heart finds cheer.

So saddle up as morning breaks,

With every breath, the spirit wakes.

Through campfires bright and colds embrace,

The beauty lies in this sacred space.