When the West Was Wild
It wasn’t the land that made cowboys—it was their untamed spirit.
Beneath the vast, unending stretch,
Where whispers dance with winds that fetch,
The cowboy gazes at the deep,
As twilight stirs from shadows’ keep.
His saddle creaks like aged wood,
A faithful steed, where dreams once stood.
With every star that starts to gleam,
He feels the sky fulfill his dream.
The sunsets paint in fiery hues,
While crickets strum their evening blues.
In solitude, he finds his grace,
A heartfelt bond with heavens face.
As morning casts its golden light,
He rides, a shadow in the bright.
With heart laid bare, he claims his space,
In the sky’s embrace, he finds his place.
Copyright © 2024 Randy Salars
All rights reserved
All rights reserved