The Watchman’s Ridge: A Lone Cowboy’s View of Eternity

The West wasn’t won by luck—it was carved by determination and hard work.

Upon the ridge where echoes play,

The watchman stands as night meets day.

His silhouette against the sky,

A guardian bold, where eagles fly.

With leather boots and lasso tight,

He scans the land, both vast and bright.

From craggy heights, the valleys breathe,

Secrets of life that never leave.

The stars above, like diamonds cast,

Remind him of the days long past.

In whispered winds, the ghosts ride near,

With tales of love and honest fear.

As dawn unfolds with hues of gold,

The watchmans heart, both brave and bold,

Awaits the sun to light his path,

A cowboys soul, alive with wrath.