A Home At Last

January 2, 2005

The guitar is faint
The wall is grey
With only chips of paint
Whose colors were once so gay

A handful of smiles
With drinks to hand
Close their eyes,
Hearing the sound of the band

Outside, the sun sets
Coloring the adobe red
The wind from the west
To this warm place has fled.

The mountains linger
In the shades of dusk
A horse was to bring her
Away from this dust.

But she is with the others
Lost in the old songs
Her voice joins with her brothers’
And the night promises to be long.

A cowboy, ragged and dark
Sits in a corner, alone
On his journey, neither will he embark
He’s found at last a home.

The horses are restless,
Impatient to move on
But the night will be endless
Now that the daylight is gone.

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