Here lies a man of sun and sand
His days in the saddle are done
He stood for what he felt was right
Under stars or midday sun
Handy with a rope or gun
He lived the cowboy life
His only love, the open range
He never took a wife
He had decided long ago
The prairie was his bride
Loving her with all his heart
Until the day he died
Through heat and storm and blowing snow
You’d never hear him complain
Accepting life the cowboy way
No dreams of fortune or fame
Gently he spoke to other folks
A quiet man, but true
Lies refused to cross his lips
When the simple truth would do
Around the fire, he’d spin a tale
Of the places he had been
Or tell a joke to cheer us up
Then duck his head and grin
His spirit lives from this day on
Within us one and all
We’ll carry on his way of life
Standing straight and tall
The sod he loved, his blanket now
Beneath the open skies
His friends stand by with hats in hands
To bid him fond goodbyes
Silver trophy winner
Adding your comment:
Maggie 
I read this one last night and was quite moved by it. I agree; you are a good storyteller...a requirement for any writer of any form. Rhyming isn't easy to pull off, I know. You've done so admirably with this piece. The story you told reminded me so much of my stepdad. He was born in Indian Territory before Oklahoma became a state. He lived and died on the land he grew up on (not the original home, but one he built nearby). He had so many tales to tell, all of them well-worth listening to. He was considered to be the walking, talking "Farmer's Almanac" in Greenfield, near Watonga. I always loved visiting him and my mom on the farm; I once stayed for my entire two-week vacation and hated to leave. I told him the area reminded me of the beginning of "Bonanza" and I would dearly love to cross it on horseback. 
He was a wonderful man and I miss his presence in my life...but not in my heart, where he remains. Good one, Poet. 
How's you? Keep up with the excellent work
