A Well Worn Saddle

The beauty of a well worn saddle If only it could speak of its earlier days It’s wear tells a story, marred by the rub of denim on the open range The saddle soap stain; mottled by an early spring rain The busted stitches; the remnants from a horse’s mane It’s decorative leather tassels weathered and frayed Manifesting a story of harder days We can gather much by the saddles tattered worn sight The leather reveals the cowboy riding, day and night Driving a herd as the cattle dogs snip and bite Busting a covey of bobwhites O’ the irony of a saddles tale The loneliness, the camaraderie, the serenity of life on the trail The wear tells a story, the beauty of a saddle, worn well