Echoes of Hoofbeats: The Lasting Presence of a Herd Gone By

Freedom is found where the dirt road ends and the open sky begins.

Echoes resonate in twilights breath,

As hoofbeats fade, yet linger near.

The dust of trails, a tale of depth,

Where wild hearts once galloped without fear.

Beneath the vast and starlit dome,

The whispers tell of herds gone by.

With leather saddles and fields they™d roam,

A boundless freedom beneath the sky.

The ghostly echoes stir the night,

Each rhythm speaks of land they graced.

From valleys low to peaks of height,

The spirit of the herd embraced.

So ride the winds, let legends soar,

In every beat, their memorys found.

For though they™ve passed, their spirits roar,

In echoing hoofbeats, they™re forever bound.