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Poem

It sat way back in a thicket of of pine and oak
with the roof falling in and all the windows broke.
with brush as tall as the roofs eve,
to find this one could not believe.

I was chasing down this ferro calf,
as I went to dally, the rope snapped in half
dazed from the rope that bounced off my head
and hoping that would die, just left me seeing red

heading back to grab a new rope
is when my horse broke from his lope
he must have seen the same reflection as i
i saw the house, i thought who built here and why

I walked in just to check things out
all hand crafted furniture, they sure made em' stout
 kicking though the dirt, was an old pair of spurs
aged from time i could only make out the word her's

an old letter, newspaper and the spurs was all i took
as i rode away i gave the ole house one last look
just as i left the canyon, i swear i heard a girl cry....
and only for that instant, my throat had went dry...

feeling uneasy about taking what was not mine
i searched for hours and could not find that thicket of pine
it was as if the house was not there
then a coyote cry came from nowhere..........

back at camp, I didn't know what to say
that old spanard saw the spurs and rode away.
yelling something about a cry from above
and never mess with true love.........??????

to this day i do not venture out,
my foot that kicked up that spur, is infested with gout.
everytime I look at those spurs
I hear the cry that must be her's...........

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