A Pocket Full of Rocks
The doors opened wide,
A Cowboy tired an’ worn.
Tears in his hide,
Even his chaps were torn.
Walkin’ towards’im, the old Padre heard,
He’as mumblin’ a story wild.
Sixty moons back he’d lost the herd,
How he liked ‘ole Curly cooked mild.
Twelve moons back God gave’em gold,
Some nuggets, a little dust.
Faintly the Cowboy told,
“Only Him can a feller trust.”
He reached threw his chaps,
Slowly their hands embrace.
Exhausted he nearly collapse,
Hearin’ the dust leave it’s trace.
All to Him I’d give,
The first house of His I see.
Reacon He let me live,
A Padres’ Cross set’em free
He opened up his hand.
As the Cowboy staggered away.
Rocks an’ siftin’ sand,
Helped the Cowboy pray.
By: JW “Ish” Fellers ~ TexasCowboyIsh
September 21, 2009 ~ Monday
Copyright © Jw Fellers | Year Posted 2009
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