My Cowboy
As a youngster he rode “horsey” on his Dad’s and brothers’ knees.
Then sat a Shetland pony before the age of three.
Not everyone stays seated on a trotty little horse
And he had a few “downfalls” as any cowboy would, of course.
Oh, there may have been some bruises and perhaps a few brief tears,
But a guy gets up and mounts again ‘cause a cowboy perseveres!
Then, he grew somewhat restless - the pony seemed so small
Especially since the boy himself had grown to be so tall!
And no amount of warning or threatening from his mom
Could ever quite convince him not to ride the spirited ones!
Although he always figured that he’d never come to harm -
Because a mount could not be held, he lost control, and broke his arm!
So, cowboys do feel sore sometimes, especially if you’re just six
And the lump on his arm was noticed - his mom knew all his tricks!
A trip to the hospital followed, for he couldn’t deny the pain.
He heard the doctor tell his mom, “We’ll have to break that arm again!”
A part of life? A lesson learned? A now obedient son?
Don’t think that he stayed off the horse, one-armed reining could be done!
There were a few more bruises and a greater need for tears,
But, a guy gets up and rides again ‘cause a cowboy perseveres.
He was still a little cowpoke when cattle became his chores.
How best could he climb up to ride? He really wasn’t sure.
So, when the mare would chomp the grass, his young hands would clasp the mane
And he was seated backwards as she raised her head again!
It usually was quite easy to turn himself around
Though sometimes in the process he’d end up sitting on the ground.
But, practice will make perfect. That’s what a cowboy learns
And he soon became quite an expert at making horseback turns.
Summers were spent tending the needs of the hungry herd
When he practiced singing Western songs well acquainted with the words.
Don’t Fence Me In, Cool Waters, and Back in the Saddle Again,
Were some of the favourite songs he sang whether sunshine or falling rain.
He practiced roping fence posts then turned to roping the real thing,
For working the herd at branding time or bringing the stubborn strays in.
Newborn calves across the saddle brought back to the home corral
While the cow would follow closely making certain all was well!
Part of a Prairie lad’s duty and all in the course of work,
Then a break in the endless hours as the herd settled down at dark.
His dressup gear was leather chaps, black Stetson, with boots and vest in shades of tan
But added to these furnishings was the strong will to become a man.
And so the story goes of horse and master - true and tried
The passing of years brought summer sun and incredible moonlight rides.
When far across the moonkissed snow the young man, his dog, and his mount
Would canter the open fields more times than one could count.
The saddle fit on many a horse some favourites, some quite shy,
As tall within the stirrups rode this very special guy!
His curly hair had turned to silver, a horse no longer his best pal
But he’s still a cowboy hero to this loving, grey-haired gal!
Love forever from your wife, Ethel
P.S.
Though boots and stetson are not worn as they were in the past
They are still a part of his earthly ride, which now, will be his last.
Shetland Pony
