There was this old cowboy,
his hair had turned white.
His face was wrinkled,
his blue eyes still bright.
His hands were rough and callus,
don't remember what his age.
But listening to his stories,
was like turning page to page.
He told many stories,
about cattle he had herd.
I sit there and listened,
I never said one word.
The days were hot and dusty,
out working in the sun.
Worked through the night,
til the work was done.
He made it to the market,
the cattle all were sold.
Never made much money,
is what he always told.
It was always enough,
to put food on the table.
He always thanked the Lord,
That he was always able.
It bought feed for the horses,
took care of all their needs.
It took care of getting,
next years garden seeds.
Always glad to get home,
the best days he ever had.
And I must tell you,
he's my best friend and my dad.
Copyright © 2017 Jo Ann Lovelace. All Rights Reserved.
