THE RIDER

THE RIDER

He’ll ride in the morning, through the day travels the road,

High upon the hills, a shadow beneath the clouds, he rides.

Into the wind, the rain blowing against his face, he rides,

The snow falls as through the mountain passes he is moving.

A man with no name, throughout the land may be a glimpse,

He’s known only as the rider carrying whatever for hire.

This horse he rides with colors of solid black and white spots,

A demon creature, wicked with speed like the wind.

Brown and black hat worn on his head gives a mysterious appearance,

A coat so long for cover and warmth shields him from weather, the rider.

Boots on his feet of dark, broken in pattern can be noticed in the stirrups,

This man of the land rides and rides just he and his faithful companion.

Like a ghost so quiet he roams the wild wilderness of life,

He’s known as the rider, into the night he rides.

Keith Garrett

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s