BADLAND TRAILS
My pony's bridle lays across a hay bail.
A black saddle straddles a fence post rail.
From blurry eyes a tear drop may fall.
Ghostly apparitions of a memory to recall.
In days of youth mounting from fence rails,
rider on pony would wander endless trails.
My mount would forever faithfully guide,
when crossing haunted badlands at a stride.
Quotes;
I am delighted by the romanticism of the poetry, making light of the hardships.
I want to be a cowboy and live in the romantic era of open trails and endless plains.
The cowboy life is humorous when looked at by Mr. Cheeks-Too-Soft.
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