The Call of the Open Range
The wild west wasn’t tamed by sitting still—it took courage to follow the horizon.
In twilights hush, the cattle roam,
By ghostly lines of weathered bone.
The cattle whisper tales long lost,
Of ranchers dreams and shattered frost.
Beneath the sky, a canvas wide,
Echoes of laughter where shadows bide.
Barbed wire rusts, a sentinel stands,
Guarding the secrets of forgotten lands.
Old boots still wander the sunlit trail,
Each step a story, each breath a tale.
Memories dance in the crisp, cool air,
Of victories won and burdens to bear.
As dawn unfolds with its golden hue,
The rancher recalls what he once knew.
With heart and saddle, he rides once more,
Through threads of time--the ghost fence™s lore.
Copyright © 2025 Randy Salars
All rights reserved
All rights reserved