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About Bryce Angell



White-Haired Man

I was just fifteen, yeah still in my teens, when that old man came into my life.
He was sixty plus ten, now a white haired man. His wrinkles showed years of strife.

The cowboy way was his, you could say, but his rodeo days had ended.
Too many bulls took control and left him well unmended.

So he’d turned to the drink and made everyone think that life was oh so dandy.
But the life he’d earned was quickly spurned and left him short one family.

Yet this patron of fray had a familiar way which brought us close together.
Our time was well spent. Each day was meant to seemingly last forever.

One day, while I was doing my chores, I could hear my father say:
“Pack up your gear and get out of here. You don’t deserve his love.

“He’s a fine young man who wouldn’t understand why you left us all alone.
I prayed every day that you’d show up some way through a letter or just face to face.

“Was it wrong for you to live with us too, or did you really just hate this place?
My mother cried for years then stopped the tears like we’d turned off the fountain.

“So we buried her in her favorite place. Up there on top of that mountain.
This ranch is now mine. I’ve kept it in line, all these years without you here.

“So head on out, you built that gate, it isn’t so hard to find.
I’m done with you Dad! And hell’s too good for you and those of your kind.”

This white haired man was my father’s dad. Why hadn’t I noticed it sooner?
Cuz’ our time had been marked—right from the start. I just really thought he was a loner.

My Grandfather wept with his head hung low. Tears streaming from his eyes.
It was on this day, I’d have to say, that my years of a young one were over.

“Dad, let’s forgive this man and show him our love. We can once again be a family.
With God as our gauge we can turn past this page. This is what you have always taught me.”

My own father’s eyes now held less hate as he struggled to find some relief.
A hug was shared by two broken hearts. Would that mend the years of their grief?

So the three of us men a family again, Grandfather, Father and Son,
to run this old ranch and be together, yes forgiveness has once again won.

© 2015, Bryce Angell
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


Bryce Angell comments, "I'm a registered nurse here in Idaho Falls. While taking care of one of my patients I overheard his children comment why should they have to take care of him now. He was never around for them growing up. It brought on a flood of emotions for me. "




      About Bryce Angell
                                                          provided 2015

I was raised on a ranch/farm. My father was an outfitter, therefore we had many horses. At the age of seventeen I became my father's farrier. You know the rest of that story.

Now at age sixty two horses are still a major part of my life with rides into the Tetons, Yellowstone and surrounding areas.




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