The Last Ride

May 22, 2011
By Anonymous

She runs in the room to wake him up,
In her hand is a coffee cup.
Her curly hair, belt and boots,
She has all the country roots.
She wakes up her daddy,
Eager to begin their adventure ahead.
He takes his coffee with a kiss,
And rolls out of bed.
They grab their saddle, bit and bridle, ready to ride,
Together they go out to the countryside.
He teaches her what cowboys do,
How to rope and ride and whoop.
He teaches her about the south,
and about how to make her mama proud.
He tells her stories of their land,
Tells her stories of the working man.
He says, “Someday when my time is through,
All this will go to you.”
She nods her head and hugs her dad,
He quietly knows she doesn’t understand.
Six months later, she hugs him again,
as he boards a plane to another land.
There, that land is full of sweat, blood and tears,
From wounded soldiers who have sacrificed all these years.
One year later there comes a call,
A solider took a hit, and then a fall.
The land is now that little girls,
Filled with memories of cherished times,
Of her daddy and her, and that one last ride.

The author's comments:
a school project

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