Welcome To The Bullpen
Like Father, Like Son
By Delia J. Fry
I read your last letter home
The paper yellow with age
I can feel your desperation
In the words "Love, Murphy"
You're in Mexico now, safe
And Texas will have to wait
Just a few scribbled words
To a love, who stood by you
She was sad, but not alone
I was with her then, just born
But, who were you anyway
A quick gun outlaw, wanted?
$500 reward, dead or alive
So you hide in a border town
Alive or maybe you're dead
I have an picture in my mind
You sit against a gnarled tree
Your head rests in your arms
Tired from the heat of the day
A cowboy's solitary moment
Listening to the Rio Grande
Vowing to cross again soon
Still hoping she waits for you
Well, she left us last June
She died of a broken heart
She never forgot you, never
And I promised to find you
Do I see you in the mirror?
Is my face what I look for?
A professional gunslinger
An older version of myself?
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