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
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