A Lone Gunslinger

Idyllic country setting, from somewhere in the past Imagine an expanse of rich green grass Running up to a fence, fronting a proud red barn The subject of this timeless, yet timely yarn … The sky painted with bright streaks, close to sunset Showers had been falling; the world was still wet From the smell of Spring rains that long linger Blended with the acrid smoke of a lone gunslinger … The barn door lay open, not a trace of the horse Its stall disheveled, from the application of force The hay unheaten, drops of blood all around And the gun of a lone gunslinger left on the ground The owner paused a moment, then wept like a child Unabashed, herky-jerky, without end did he cry 'Cause he knew full well, as his tears they did swell That his steed had fallen victim to a gunslinger from Hell The sun set in the West; night had descended The life of the horse over, finished, ended ... Years later folks still recalled the yarn, and the smell Of the stall emptied by a gunslinger, by his magnum's death knell