Weathers lines crossed his face
Leathered skin rough to embrace
Misty eyes from dawn to dusk
Shaking off a day's worth dust
The cowboy wears his work on those
Shoulders sore and hunched and bowed
Roughed up arms and callused hands
Hourglass always low on sands
One leg hitches when he walks
Thoughts spoken slowly when he talks
Don't dismiss his far'way gaze
Your bad weeks are his bad days
But what he does before you wake
Sometimes cause his hands to shake
Pull down tight on rein and rope
Like Pandora's box, there remains just hope
One day he'll take his final ride
Hope finds a love there at his side
A love whose time was to abide
Take place love and hate of things rawhide
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