The Wind’s Passing Touch: A Reminder of Time’s Fleeting Nature

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

prairie winds, they softly sigh,

As whispers of the day pass by,

They carry tales of yesteryears,

And brush the cheek like silent tears.

A cowboy rides, his hat pulled low,

With memories like rivers flow.

Each gust a ghost of times embrace,

In every swell, a fleeting trace.

Beneath the stars, the shadows dance,

He feels the winds ephemeral prance.

A life thats woven, thread by thread,

Of paths untraveled, dreams long fled.

Yet as the dawn breaks, bold and bright,

The wind conveys its secret flight.

For in each heartbeat, brave and true,

Times passing touch reveals whats due.