Where The Stars Touch Your Hand Poem by david lessard

Out here, where you can see the land,
Where there's lots of elbow-room;
The stars come down and touch your hand,
That's what your senses will assume.

The moon here's a little lighter,
The sunsets put on quite a show;
Colors here, seem a bit more brighter,
The eyes behold, a diffrent glow.

Out here the nights are still and quiet,
Maybe a coyote's yelp or two;
It's more serene, you can't deny it,
The daytime's sky's a bluer blue.

You can look and see forever,
Nothing there to mar your view;
Just cacti and clear weather,
and mountains of a purple hue.

Come see, the desert that awaits you,
Come be the the honored guest;
Come to where the lands still new,
Come see why people love the west.