Just ate my last plate of beans
Got three dollars stashed in my sock
I'm wearing my only pair of jeans
Three oreo cookies stashed in my hat
To keep away the hunger pangs
I got some tobacco in my back pocket
Soon the boxcar will ascend the hills
Where there still roams wild mustangs
I notice the tumbleweed rolling
In the oncoming dust storm
Paralyzed statues of cactus staring
In their odd shaped form
As silhouettes in the background
While the next horizon appears
Imagining the conestoga wagon trails
Of the traveling pioneers
The herds of buffalo that roamed the grasslands
Alongside the grazing antelope
Indian maidens who pitched the camps
Who prepared meals of the wild cantelope
Stretched hides that bake in the sun
In a peaceful mid day afternoon
I ramble on with my day dreams
As I observe an old Hopi ruin
It's the Santa Fe trail in the rock hewn tops
No longer are the flat land plains
Wild deer that look on with no fear
At the passing by of the trains
Many a gold miner lived in this place
Their dreams of hope and desires
Working by the sweat of their brows
In the midst of the aspens and the briars
Here from my perch on the old boxcar
I imagine how things used to be
When I was a boy I dreamed of this life
I made it my silent decree
To ride the rails and see the sights
To sleep under the stars in the cool air
Feeling the warmth of a campfire
In evening skies so fair
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
No comments:
Post a Comment