The Saddle’s Last Rest: A Symbol of a Life Come Full Circle

Do what’s right, ride tall, and keep your boots clean—it’s the cowboy way.

In a quiet barn, the saddle hangs,

Dusty leather, worn from the bangs.

Of time that slipped through fingers tight,

Now holds a tale of days and nights.

The horse went swift through canyon wide,

With stars above, a faithful ride.

Each hoofbeat thumped a heartbeats song,

In rugged trails where cowboys belong.

Now shadows creep like memories lost,

The weight of years, a proud cost.

Yet in that saddle, stories weave,

The legacy of those who believe.

So rest it now, soft whispered sigh,

A symbol of dreams that wont die.

For in its leather, lifes essence swells,

A journey complete, where the heart compels.