His skin was so
wrinkled,
All leathered
and tanned...
From hours
spent in sunlight,
The years that
time spanned.
His eyes still
would twinkle,
But only
now and then...
When his mind
wandered back,
To the way
life had been.
A roof over his
head now,
Sparkling white
sheets...
A coverlet
thrown over them,
Kept simple, but
neat.
The room was
confining,
But they saw to
his needs...
Joe was a
loner, spoke naught
Of his
deeds.
A little old
rocker ,
Was his favorite
chair...
It's cushion a
blanket,
All folded and
square.
The blanket was
special,
From long years
before...
It had
protected his horse,
From the saddle
it wore.
Joe rocked in
the chair,
Boots and
hat by his side...
Awaiting the
next time,
The call
came to ride.
The staff
thought Joe weird,
Others thought
him quite strange...
As he waited for
the call,
To again ride
the range.
Joe kept to
himself,
And he bothered
no one...
His head cocked
and listening,
For the call
soon to come.
The hearse was
called for him,
In
deep dark of night...
But to Joe it
was a mustang,
Such a beautiful
sight.
They sent
along the blanket,
Boots, hat, and
his tack...
For Joe had
been quite adamant,
"I'm not coming
back!'
Joe's soul rides
the range now,
Permanently
free...
Still punching
those longhorns,
For
eternity.
(c)
02/03/07 Loree (Mason) O'Neil
Midi
playing is: A Cowboy
