Holding a hot iron frying pan,
Creasing a Stetson with the other hand.
Watching the heavens for the color of sky,
So he'll know what to do when this day goes by.
At night this same cowboy touches her lips, smooths her hair,
Roughs up his soft babies with a playful flair.
Loves and thanks God with all of his might.
His tired bones will feel warm blankets this night.
© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)
