His face was wrinkled from the sun,
Leathery as the gloves he had on.
From loves lost and battles won,
His eyes held a thousand secrets.
His legs were bowed, he had a limp,
Pain was with him where ever he went.
He stood tall, though his back was bent,
He had only a few regrets.
He cinched the saddle tight and good.
Quietly, lovingly, his horse stood
Like any faithful old friend would.
They had one more ride to make yet.
Off at a cantor, not too fast,
The old man wanted this ride to last
Long enough to travel to the past,
To where his roots were the deepest.
The fading sun in an orange ball
Lit the edges of the old stone wall,
Of the old cemetery where all
Of his family now rested.
He placed flowers gently on the graves
Of the wife and child he'd tried to save,
When fire had swept the prairie in waves,
And his faith in God had been tested.
It was all so very long ago
Yet, in his eyes the tears still flow.
Oh, the hurt a mans heart can know.
So many years it had lasted.
He sat 'neath a tree to rest his back.
They found him by following the track
Of his horse that, without him, came back
To the ranch he no longer needed.
They laid him beneath the mossy stone
That once bore his wife's name alone.
Just yesterday, he had added his own.
At long last, his heart now rested.
K. L. Dennie 2013
