Sunrise on the desert.
Golden sands, a red- orange sky.
A shadow cast in darkness-
On
the winds subtle cry.
Crossing a painted picture,
A seemingly endless cage.
Facing another day alone,
The cowboy
turns the page.
He rides towards the horizon,
Where each night the sunsets hide.
Black Stetson hat, callused
hands,
On the white horse he calls Pride.
A face rough and unshaven,
Kabar knife, boots and Levi's.
Never a smile,
never a frown,
Just wild, blue staring eyes,
And the desert winds blow harsh,
Dust kicking up in his sight.
But steady on his march,
The
man presses on through the plight.
Perseverance leads the way,
On the lonely, sometimes dreadful quest.
Indeed a
good man some would say,
But I'd say he's the best.
And the dream seems within reach now,
The tiresome journey nearing its end.
He can see
it in the distance,
As the storm seems to suspend.
A land where emotions flourish-
In grandiose euphoria.
A land
where pain eases and hearts nourish,
A land he calls "Utopia".
Yes determination, will, and guts,
His three best friends behooved-
Have led him to the
crossroads-
Where nothing remains to be proved.
The desert lies behind him,
Prosperity just ahead on the plain.
He
slows up just a moment,
Gently pulling back the reign.
Tipping his hat without looking back-
To those he touched on this parade.
He holds his
head high, lets out a sigh,
Watching a brilliant sunset fade.
And night comes on the wings of angels,
Calling a billion
stars to his side.
Carrying him away to his "Utopia",
The cowboy's final ride.
