Where Rivers Carve the Trail

The Old West taught us that persistence often unearths the greatest treasures.

Where rivers carve the trail so wide,

Beneath the sun, where dreams abide.

With mountains high and valleys low,

The cowboy rides where wild winds blow.

The waters dance like silver threads,

Through rugged canyons, where silence treads.

His hat pulled low, the leather creaks,

As thunder rolls and the river speaks.

In twilights glow, the shadows blend,

With whispered tales of a steadfast friend.

The bubbling brook, the hoot of an owl,

Guide him home through the nights soft howl.

When dawn breaks forth with hues of gold,

And whispers secrets of the bold.

Hell saddle up, with purpose true,

Where rivers carve the trail anew.