Laurie C. Tye
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Don’t Forget The Cowboy
I was visiting an old town one dayAnd I ventured into a storeThis store was old and filled with dustFew folks live here anymore.I was just about to leave the placeWhen something caught my eyeOver in the corner thereAnd I really don’t know why.I picked it up and blew dust offThis thing, it struck me with aweIt was a beat up old StetsonThe scruffiest thing I ever saw.“How much for this old hat?” I askedAnd held it so they could see“Oh that old thing” a man replied“Has really no value to me.”“You see it’s been in here so longI forgot it was even thereI don’t know how I got itI can’t remember when or where.So if you really want that thingI guess you might as well take itCan’t imagine you wanting it thoughI’m really quite sure it wont fit.”Well I gave that man a couple of bucksAnd headed home with my prizeThat night as I was examining my findI couldn’t believe my eyes.I started to see the life of that hatFrom the beginning to the endIt belonged to a handsome young cowboyIt became his very best friend.You see his daddy gave him that hatSaid, “Son, you have to be strong.Take care of your mama…I love you both.”And closed his eyes and he was gone.He very rarely took it offHe wore it both night and dayYet he could feel his father nearEach time he took it off to pray.The hat went with him on all his ridesCaught snowflakes and puddled the rainIt even covered up his faceTo shadow the hurt and pain.Then there was that wonderful dayWhen he took it off his headHe held it tightly in his handWhen he took his bride to wed.I only saw it one other timeOn his head it was not wornAnd that was when he took it offThe night his son was born.He only had a moment thoughBefore they were taken awayHe never could quite understandJust why they could not stay.There was nothing they could do they sayThey each were fading fastHe held them tightly in his armsThen from this world they both passed.He never really did know whyBut he knew all else would paleIt was then he devoted the rest of his daysTo the life he knew on the trail.As lines grew on that cowboys faceThe wrinkles appeared on the hatEach one told a story of life rugged and hardEach stain testifies of that.They say you can’t judge a manWithout walking a mile in his shoesBut by looking at an old cowboy’s hatThere’s no way you can lose.Each wrinkle, each line, each spot, each tearTells of the boy, the lad, the manOf his life long before nowTry to imagine if you can.You may even hear their voicesIf you’re listenin’ just rightIn the wind, the sage, and treesOr orange skies at night.So if your one that’s thinkin’They’ll be a dying breedWell you’d better think againCuz there’ll always be a needFor what they did help pave the wayLike Gene, Dale and RoyAnd though this hat has been forgottenThere will always be the Cowboy.














laurie c. tye
Contact Me
writeon3@live.com
801-231-8910
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