The Greenhorn’s Misstep

A cowboy’s trust in his horse is as deep as the canyons they ride.

In dusty boots, the greenhorn strode,

With dreams as bright as mornings glow.

He took the reins, a storm to ride,

Yet felt the whispers of the low.

The cattle roamed on endless plains,

While shadows danced beneath the trees.

He aimed to lasso hearts and reins,

But tangled ropes swayed on the breeze.

A rattler’s hiss sent shivers down,

As hooves tore up the parched terrain.

The greenhorn tripped, forgot his crown,

And found himself in hard-won pain.

Yet in that fall, he learned to stand,

And rise again with grit and grace.

For every misstep in this land,

Is just a step in the cowboys chase.