The moon rose red
the sun took a fall,
the stars colored blue
stood there, with backs to the wall.
On the hard ground
the old cowboys eyes gaze to the west,
the night quiet and cool
as he takes his rest.
Half way there
to 'Old-Mexico',
half way to where
he aims to go.
The past is past
and a long time gone,
he lays there tired and broken
recalling how it all went wrong.
Living was hard
the days were rough,
all he took
was only barely enough.
It's a weary trail
the one he rides,
but he'll keep it going
just to arrive on the other side.
He feels lightning
between his ears,
but no thunder
will he hear.
Laying out tonight
holding it all deep in his breast,
sleep comes in a soft silence
as at long last, he takes his eternal rest.
I can see this all unfolding out on the desert plain Smoky, and feel the loneliness the man feels palpably. The poem made me think of one of my all time favorite books Lonesome Dove and one of it's main characters Call who had the cowboy ethic and a courage that most ordinary men admire. Excellent poetry.
Sleep comes in a soft silence as at long last he takes his eternal rest. Beautiful lines brought tears to my eyes lovely read well done
This is both an excellent poem, yet very sad. As that time comes for each of us, eventually, some go all too soon, others lingering under the moon....yet, still wondering...and ready.... and keeping their faith so steady...just waiting... Thank you for your poem.
Lovely and poignant story Smoky - guess we all have to take that final rest eventually, as well as the old cowboy.
A fantastic poem, reminds me of the old gun slinger's who can only retire when they die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like ghost riders in the sky.A sad demise for another old cowboy. Lightning between his ears, but no thunder- a pregnant thought. I admire your compassionate nature. A great and caring write