My Sweetheart Waits Back Home

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

The prairie winds, they whisper low,

As I ride beneath the sun’s warm glow.

My hearts a saddle, worn and dear,

For my sweetheart waits, my longing near.

Through canyons deep, where shadows dwell,

I trace the path, her loves sweet spell.

The trail is rough, but I push on,

For her bright smile, my guiding dawn.

The campfire crackles, casting light,

While stars above twinkle through the night.

I think of her, with fond delight,

The dreams we share, our futures bright.

So, onward I ride, with courage bold,

Through golden fields and nights turned cold.

My heart beats true, as I roam far,

For my sweetheart waits–shes my North Star.