A Cowboy Is

A cowboy named Hank joined wagon trails going west on his horse He rode the outskirts and back trails of cities in search of a home He would get a piece of land for growing corn near a river’s source That would ease his restless soul; put an end to all his groans He recalled the squalor and filth seen in towns he had passed through So many miles way back when; he had long since lost count In his mind his plans stayed fresh; persevere was what to do At each stop he carved the vision while filling his canteens at the fount As for one regret-he could not read nor could barely write his name He would teach himself come evenings, from Grandma’s 'Good Book' Her legacy, tucked in his saddlebag; dusty, yet, still looked the same She had raised him on her own when his folks passed on, with all it took To him, success was the only way he could ever pay Grandma back Vowed he’d find that land near a river, far from the railway tracks ~*~ For Tirzah Conway's, "A Cowboy is" Contest