Ron Secoy Biography

A friend died recently
Our hearts filled with remorse
Some may not understand
They’ll say, “He was just a horse”
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I don’t know in history who spoke the first poem
Maybe God, when He said, “Let there be light”
Reckon that was it and the part about
Separating the day from the night
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Maybe heaven or the Chisholm Trail?
My eyes beheld a marvelous scene
Above the skies were a turquoise blue
The bermuda knee high and deep green
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Gentle breeze scurrying across the porch
Sun softly baking his old cowboy bones
Nearly napping in the cane rocking chair
The day of rest for Grandpa Buck Jones
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Where we going grandpa?
The boy asked the old man
To a place soldiers go
When they have made their last stand
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