The Gunslinger
Only one scar, from a kid in Montana.
His mom had him placed in a field of lantana.
The kid was still smiling as smoke from his vest
plumed when the bullet slammed through his chest.
With a split second draw as smooth as fresh cream,
another man falls just short of his dream.
He doesn't pull quicker to take the man's life
but to save the man years of a gunslinger's strife.
A welter of faces has challenged his game
but the soles of their boots all look the same.
The fame he once sought now plagues him in curse;
too many men he's lain in the hearse.
One day soon he'll give a slight pause
and a younger gunslinger will take up the cause.
They'll come for him too, from the east to the west
and he too in mercy, will lay them yo rest.
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.
