The fever of getting a parking space,
Watching insolent children misbehave,
Seeing the broken people strive to abide…
I have to believe in my heart and soul,
That being a cowboy was meant for me.
Oh to ride the open spaces,
Unbound to machine, or foreign places.
To see sky unlined by man’s devices,
Riding the range at an unmeasured pace.
Enjoying membership in the human race.
What is lost cannot be regained.
Sometimes it cannot even be remembered.
I remember, and it saddens me outright…
It is the reason we all like Clint Eastwood,
The reason that sunsets still trigger our heartstrings.
Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Tom Mix, and all the cowboy poets,
I salute you!