DIANNE BAUMANN
Washington State
About Dianne Baumann
The Cowboy's Last Ride
"Grandpa's Poem"The cowboy strode up and mounted his horse,
and turned his tired head toward the hills.
He didn't feel the wind, nor notice the cold,
he'd many times suffered worse ills.
He rode and he dreamed of a time long ago,
before he was left all alone.
The Montana sun shone and the flowers all bloomed,
but that was before she was gone.
He closed his eyes as he rode and could feel her touch,
just the way that it all used to be.
Now he's riding alone, to find her again,
together once more, he and she.
He bode no ill, but he couldn't stay here,
away from the one that he loved.
He had family and friends that would miss him he knew,
but he needed her love from above.
The weather got worse; it got harder to move,
but he knew that he must stay astride.
His longing for her welled up in his soul,
and he knew that this was his last ride.
He spurred his horse on and picked up the pace,
for he felt that his time was now near.
He whispered her name as he galloped along,
and he knew that somehow she would hear.
She opened her eyes and looked down from the sky,
and she smiled when she saw it was him.
She couldn't see his face, but she knew who it was,
by the shape of his beat up hat brim.
She reached out her hand and she grabbed hold of his,
and she helped him to sit by her side.
With a smile on his face and her love in his heart,
the cowboy completed his ride.
© Dianne Bauman
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
We asked Dianne to tell us about the inspiration for her poem and she wrote:
There is a story behind this poem. Isn't there always. I wrote this poem the night my grandpa died. He was the original cowboy to all of us grandkids. My family firmly believes that "Poppa" died of a broken heart less than a year after grandma died. They had been married for 66 years and he simply could not go on without her. Poppa entertained the kids, grandkids and great-grandkids his whole life with tales of his cowboy years. We all sat our first horse at Poppa's house and we all got in trouble, once, for not taking care of our horses before we took care of our selves. We'll always miss Poppa, but the pain we feel from his loss would not be traded away for the gift we got from out time spent with him.
Read Dianne Baumann's Why Santa Ain't a Cowboy
posted with other Holiday 2001 poems.
About Dianne Baumann:
I am a single mother of three teens. I have a small farm with a hodge-podge assortment of critters. I have written poetry since I was a kid, but this is the first poem I've ever submitted to anyone. I guess I sent this because it means so much to me and my family.
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