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.