The Saddle Left by the Gate: A Story of Work Done and Rest Earned

The only way to find new horizons is to keep riding toward the setting sun.

By the fencepost worn, the saddle lays,

Its leather kissed by the suns warm rays.

A tale of labor, dust, and pride,

Where work and rest forever bide.

The ranchers hands, both strong and true,

Have felt the reins, the morning dew.

With every ride, the longhorns steer,

He™s earned his rest, the end draws near.

The fire crackles as shadows grow,

The twilight whispers of tales that flow.

Beneath the stars, where coyotes wail,

He dreams of trails and the last great trail.

So let the saddle rest, unclaimed,

A piece of life, where grit is framed.

For in the quiet, he hears the call,

Of work done right, and peace for all.