Cowboy and The Lady

Out of the Red Clouds of the Morn,
The Sun breaks through.
The Land wears a Scarlet cloak.
'Tis an early hour, and the townsfolk, they sleep.
The faint trot and the horse's neigh;
Become clear as The Cowboy comes through.

A window opens; a face, a vision;
There is the Cowboy and there is The Lady.
The Cowboy bows, and gallops away.
He'll be back, at Day's end,
For that faint smile and that pink blush.
And this'd go on, like a never ending dream.

* * *
But all good things must come to an end.
One day, at Sunset, 'neath the window,
There was the same Cowboy; there was no Lady.
And the following day, the Cowboy returned,
The window now was closed.
And it remained that way;
For everyday the Cowboy returned,
He found no blush, he found no rose.

Months passed, then years, and then.....
Oh! He must have lost count.
For his hair grew silvern
And his mare was now old.
But in all those years, not for once
Did he give up his perch,
No, he could not abandon his Post.

* * *
And then one day, as the Cowboy drew near,
He saw a young lad, twenty and one years old;
Perched 'neath the window, now open
His gaze fixed on a fragile yet delicate form.
The Cowboy cleared his eyes, they were blurr
And saw the same smile, the same face,
Though much younger.
A teardrop rolled down his cheeks.
He motioned to the young man and said,
'Be wary, my son. Heed my warning,
For Evil is not necessarily Beast, 'tis Beauty.'
And some time on, the faint trot was heard again,
O'er the distant hills; the Cowboy had left,
Ne'er to return again.