The Lure of Wide-Open Spaces
There’s something about the open range that speaks to the soul of a cowboy.
Beneath the raucous saloons bright light,
Where whiskey flows and shadows fight,
The drunken cowboy sings his tune,
A heart laid bare, beneath the moon.
His hat sits low, a shield for dreams,
Of love once clear, now torn at seams.
He steals a glance, as laughter swells,
In rowdy bars where silence dwells.
The bottles warmth, a false embrace,
Can’t drown the hurt nor time erase.
A faded picture, a ghostly glance,
Of rodeo nights and a lost romance.
As dawn breaks soft on dusty streets,
He rides away, where sorrow meets.
With every bump, the heartache pounds,
Yet in the wild, his spirit sounds.
Copyright © 2024 Randy Salars
All rights reserved
All rights reserved