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Cowboy Poetry and Western Verse
Rusted Spurs
By John Darling
My campfire's flames reach for the sky while
Carving out the safe haven in the desert night
That keeps the wolves from gnawing on my ancient bones.
They will have their turn before the sun climbs into the morning sky.
For now, I watch the light flicker off the rusted spurs
That hang from the saddlebags of my dependable old roan.
No longer do I need them; no longer do I ride with the wind on
The swift steeds that were my partners in my youth.
My range roaming days are now memories,
That only old men like myself bother with.
Broncos of horseflesh and bone have been replaced
With those of rubber and steel, as they should be,
And tall young men have replaced the old and tired ones
As they should do.
But I'm not bitter, for I know that another life is now awaiting me.
As I look up in the warm desert sky and I see the stars
Calling me to come and ride the astral plain
That leads to the doorway of heaven.
When I get there I know I will be allowed to pass through it.
Because in my life I rode in lonely solitude while taming the west.
I was honest, trustworthy and true.
I was a cowboy.
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