The Cowboy
By: Christopher Bice
The sun beats down on the sand filled plains,
It's dry cracked land that's ne'er seen rain.
A lonely cowboy rides with head held low,
His wide brimmed hat shading that burning glow.
The sun will dip beneath his feet,
The coming cold will hinder his sleep.
The torturous days of heat and thirst,
While horse and rider feel their worst.
Two more days of desert he must ride,
To reach the mountains on the westward side.
The battle emerges between sand and sun,
The cowboy has only one bullet in his gun.
His horse falters and misses its step,
The cowboy is feeling all his regrets.
Down falls the horse it cannot rise,
The lonely cowboy begins to cry.
One last bullet to end its pain,
The cowboy rises and begins again.
Does he make it to the end of the line,
Or simply vanish into time?
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