My friend Brett has had a loss. His father died this morning after a long illness. Another friend, Pete, lost his father on Sunday. And my dear friend Chris is currently sitting beside with his father.
I wrote this for Brett on his last birthday. I post it here for him. And for Pete and Chris and all my friends who are watching our parents age, watching ourselves age and wondering when we all got so grown up.
I wrote this for Brett on his last birthday. I post it here for him. And for Pete and Chris and all my friends who are watching our parents age, watching ourselves age and wondering when we all got so grown up.
Just a man and a horse.
And a tumbleweed or two.
During the day,
The horizon had no end.
At night,
The sky held too many stars to count.
Cowboys don’t have mothers or fathers.
Cowboys don’t have brothers or sisters.
Nobody tells them the way to go.
Cowboys know the way.
During the day,
He’s just a man.
But sometimes.
At night.
He dreams.
He’s a cowboy.
April 30, 2007
KC McAuley
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