The Fence Line’s Final Stretch: A Boundary Between Past and Present

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

Across the sage, where wild winds blow,

The fence line stretches, a tale to sow.

With weathered posts that stand so tall,

They mark the past within their call.

Each rattlesnake and coyotes cry,

Whispers of cowboys who rode on by.

From sun-soaked days to starlit nights,

Their spirits linger, igniting flights.

A gentle breeze sways the line of wire,

Reminds of dreams that never tire.

With leather saddles and trusted steeds,

They carve their paths, fulfill their needs.

So as I ride this final stretch,

Both memories and futures etch.

With every hoofbeat, I bridge the two,

The fence line guides me, steadfast and true.