Sheriff's Last Ride
When visions crawl into his dream
to grate against a hilltop’s ire,
a sheriff flicks like soft campfire
where hazy winds dip low ,midstream.
Bandit frays stab a roguish past…
he gazes at Time…in lone sojourn
as plucks of hummed guitar return,
to soothe a mind now calm, steadfast.
Though old wounds bite the edge of glow
a hundred stars bathe eyes quite whole,
and moonlight kindles to console
the raid of dark through glazed halo.
From where he rides, the visions fade
in homage to a pure moment…
that on warm breath of contentment,
morning knights his final crusade.
4/18/2016
For Rob Carmack’s Lyrics Contest
Inspiration from lines of the song,
‘God Hates a Coward’—Tomahawk
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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