Beans, Biscuits, and Burnt Coffee

There’s something about the open range that speaks to the soul of a cowboy.

Beneath the sky where wild winds roam,

The campfire crackles, a hearth of home.

With beans in the pot, a bubbling grace,

And memories linger, like times embrace.

The biscuits rise, golden and warm,

Yet coffees burnt, a cowpokes charm.

Each sip a journey through dusty trails,

Where laughter and stories become the sails.

As twilight falls on the canyons edge,

The stars appear, a celestial pledge.

In the heart of the night, tales come alive,

Around the fire, where dreamers thrive.

So raise a mug, let the stories flow,

Of rugged lives and the trails we know.

Beans, biscuits, and coffees fierce bite,

Forge bonds of friendship neath the vast night.