Paul Albert Bell
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A Cowboy Soldier
I can see a soldier's mother
Knitting quietly in the lamplight,
Her precious thoughts are for another
Who has been sent away to fight.
She is remembering a tousled haired boy
Running through the house to play.
She is remembering the heartfelt joy
Of washing and nurturing him each day.
She gloried in his every little achievement
For he was her flesh and blood.
It was only temporary bereavement
When he would come in covered with mud.
Sometimes he rode a stick horse
All over a vast front yard range.
He was rounding up cattle of course