Poetry Directory

The Cowboy

Lone cowboy

Riding the line,

A battered hat upon his head

Sadly recalls a happier time.

A cold mountain behind him

Riding under a dark unforgiving sky,

A lone tear on his cheek

I guess that even real cowboys do cry.

Thinking bout his lost dreams

Time spent wastin,

Chasin that golden dream,

He breathes a long sigh,

As another tear falls from his eye.

It seems that he once had a wife

I don’t know if that’s true,

They say he left her for the rodeo life

But, what else could a real cowboy do?

He’s looking for a spot

To call his bed,

A place to just lay

His weary head,

Maybe dream,

He’s home again,

In his wife’s arms,

Until the nights’ end.

I guess that even real cowboys do cry,

Riding under a lonely unforgiving sky,

Recalling a life that somehow slipped by,

Lord, it’s sad to see a real cowboy cry.

Poem copyrighted © 2004 by Lydia Warner Miller

Web site copyrighted © 2005 by Lydia Warner Miller