Recollections

I saw an old cowpoke A riding one day And heard him a whistling A song of his day. His face it was weathered, His hands they were strong, But his old bay pony Just loped right along. He thought of the past, Of firey young men Of roundups and brandings, Poker and gin. The courage they needed To face each new day, His wife and his family, Now far, far away. All these things they have changed With the passing of time Now he rides all alone Through the dreams of his mind. I dedicate this poem to the cowboys of my youth. Some gentle and loving, some harsh and crude. This only added to their allure. A kid's dreams, spoon-fed by their mystic lore. God Bless You, you have enriched my life.