I watch some of them fall by the wayside,

 some taking illness like a bullet,

 others riding off into the sunset

 of retirement, and I think, some day I'd

 like to go, but I've chosen a new trail

 with a young one whom I lead by the reins

 (or is it me that he tugs and restrains?),

 scouting the brush for adventures, travails.

 While others crow about the newfound joy

 of grandparenthood, with photo support,

 I'll be the one still holding down the fort -

 yes, me, the ol' government cowboy,

 administrating into tomorrow,

 stoking one more month in the mortgage train,

 keeping varmints from the door once again,

 in this cubicle, my Last Stand, my Alamo.

05/22/2007

Author's Note: [First published in Sunken Lines, Winter 2005.]

Posted on 05/23/2007
Copyright © 2025 Bruce W Niedt