In Search of a Cowboy
Woke up this morning and made you some breakfast.
You didn’t want it, this I could tell.
You walked to the stove and started to smell it,
turned up your nose, and said, "what the hell!"
It's just humble fare like my grandma Edna
used to prepare out west on the plains.
She always swore it was better than dyin'
from the throes of severe hunger pangs.
I know you’re a cowboy from your hat and your buckle
and the way you hang your thumbs from your belt,
but seeing your face all green makes me chuckle
from cowboy vittles that you only smelt
My darling I believed you were the real thing
a genuine cattle hand through and through,
but now I'll have to go back to the saloon
to find another who'll eat possum stew.
11/19/2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
