Bootprints in the Frost: Traces of Early Mornings on the Range

In the Old West, your word was your bond, and respect was earned the hard way.

In the hush of dawn, the world’s aglow,

Bootprints in frost where few dare to go.

A whispering breeze stirs the ghostly air,

Tracing the path of a dreamers dare.

On rugged trails where the wild must roam,

Each step tells stories that wanderers comb.

The crack of a branch and the rustle of leaves,

Mark secrets held by the prairie eves.

Hoofbeats beside me, a loyal friend,

Through thickets and valleys, on journeys we wend.

The chill on my breath, a moment of grace,

In this vast expanse, the heart finds its place.

With the sun lifting high, the frost melts away,

Echoes of hoofprints greet the new day.

In every stride taken, adventure unfolds,

Across the range where the wild spirit holds.