The winds of time
have scoured
and aged everyone,
bleaching the bones
in the desert sun.
The half covered
wayside grave,
denotes the life
some pioneer gave,
to tame this
lawless desert plain.
Now, the dismal
lowing of cattle coming,
to the small
yucca shaded spring.
The rhythmic beats of
wild horse hoofs
drumming this hard
baked desert thing.
The desert agelessly
echoes all sounds from
it's sand and rocks.
Watching for the ghosts
of men and women,
who once were young,
and gloried in the beauty
of the desert's setting sun.
The half covered
wayside grave,
denotes the life
some pioneer gave,
to tame this
lawless desert plain.
Now, the dismal
lowing of cattle coming,
to the small
yucca shaded spring.
The rhythmic beats of
wild horse hoofs
drumming this hard
baked desert thing.
The desert agelessly
echoes all sounds from
it's sand and rocks.
Watching for the ghosts
of men and women,
who once were young,
and gloried in the beauty
of the desert's setting sun.
This work by mysticdave is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Very descriptive and beautiful
ReplyDeletejo oliver
We pass, like that pioneer, but we leave our mark.
ReplyDelete