Each one, I was sure, well -earned by working this earth's soil.
Each wrinkle looking like it was placed there by a loving hand.
I read in his face his love of this great and mighty land.
His horse was brushed and fed and ready for the night.
This is the first face he would see in the morning light.
His saddle was his pillow, a thin blanket to keep warm.
His trusty dog lay by his side keeping him from harm.
As I sat across the campfire from him and looked into his eyes,
I saw a weary, lonely man that brought a tear to mine.
The hands that held that old guitar were roughened by the sun.
His legs were bowed, he had a limp, that rodeo had surly done.
I couldn't help but tell him how he had touched me so,
The stories he must have locked inside were ones I yearned to know.
I begged him to share his life with me, one line at a time.
He looked at me like I was nuts and said, "I'm only 29"!
Copyright 1999
Up Country Creations
