Welcome To The Bullpen
The Visit
Mike Massey
I saw the old man sitting there, had seen him once before,
All stooped and rangy lookin’ just starin’ at the door
I wondered what the old man saw, or what he hoped to see,
Just sittin’ in that train depot, seemed kinda’ strange to me.
He wore a beat up cowboy hat, sweat stained and dusty black,
And tall stack well worn buckaroos, with heels wore down in back.
A dirty old bandana rag that’d sure seen better days,
And faded denim wrangler shirt with cuffs rolled down and frayed.
His hands were old and weather worn, all cracked and scarred and bent,
Which told of how he’d earned his keep and how his life was spent.
When I asked him of his journey, He looked and forced a smile
Said he hoped to find his grandson there, and visit for a while.
He told of his own daughter, the highlight of his life,
Who’d gone off to the army, found love, became a wife.
He said the bad part of the deal was just before she’d left,
They’d had an awful’ fallen out and hurtful things were said.
He’d fought to keep from trailin’ her, to try and bring her home,
But she’d left that little girl behind, to make her life her own.
I saw a bead of moisture form in the corner of his eye,
As he spoke of those old memories, the kind that make men cry.
Then he opened up and told of things that tied him up inside,
Of all the things he wished he’d done, and his damned old stubborn pride.
We talked it seemed for hours, as he had so much to say,
About life and love and raisin’ kids, and living life each day.
He pulled from his breast pocket, a picture creased and torn,
Of a young boy on a buckskin horse, one leg up on the horn.
He said “This here’s my sidekick, the one I’m waitin’ for,
‘Course he’s somewhat older now, been twenty years ‘er more”.
I couldn’t keep from noticing the train had come and gone,
And the length of sun cast shadows, had gotten fairly long.
I said as how it was getting late, and I should be on my way,
He said he guessed he’d got mixed up, and best call it a day.
Then as we stood and walked across the dusty wood plank floor,
A figure, straight and tall and proud, appeared there at the door.
The handsome proud young soldier, done up in battle dress,
Took the old man by the arm and pulled him to his chest.
The scene that I had witnessed, brought joy and tears and smiles,
For that old cowboy and his sidekick, would now visit for awhile.
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