Beneath the Blanket of Stars

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

Beneath the blanket of stars so bright,

The horses graze in the cool, soft night.

A whispering breeze through the sagebrush weaves,

Tales of the brave, of fortune, of thieves.

The campfire crackles, shadows dance and sway,

As solitude wraps ‘round the cowboy’s gray.

With twinkling eyes reflecting the flame,

He dreams of the trails that still call his name.

The Milky Way spills secrets from above,

As he recalls stories of lost and of love.

Each star a beacon, a hope in the vast,

Binding the future with echoes of past.

When dawn paints the sky in colors anew,

The sun rises high, casting shadows askew.

He saddles his horse, with a spirit so free,

To wander the range, just the starry sky and he.