The Patch

Debra Meyer

This trail that I ride runs on ahead,
Though I can’t quite see round the bend.
I once thought this trail everlastin’,
But now I’m aware there’s an end.

I pause to reflect and look backward,
At the course I've already run,
It’s littered with heartbreak and laughter,
Things ‘complished and things left undone.

That stretch yet to ride’s a might shorter,
Than the miles that I've left behind,
But I tote some dreams in my pocket,
There’s a place I’m longin’ to find.

A good patch of ground’s what I yearn for,
Though time trots on by me it seems.
Knee-deep in thick sweetgrass I’ll find it,
A place where I’ll shake out my dreams.

I’ll build me a house to come home to,
A barn for my horses and hay.
I’ll work on the patch until evenin’,
Then rest at the closin’ of day.

I’ll gather my loved ones around me,
We’ll watch for the sunlight’s last beams.
I’ll tell them the story of one man,
Whose loop was tied fast to his dreams.

“Was it hard?” they will ask, and I’ll smile,
Nod my head and give it a scratch.
“It was hard, but all worth the doin’
A man’s got to have him a patch.”

I rein in the thoughts jiggin’ round me,
Then turn to continue the ride.
I pack up my dreams in my pocket,
And button them safely inside.

There ain’t many things that I’m sure of,
I count no chicks before the hatch,.
But I trust that God and good horses,
Will carry me on t’ward my patch.