THE DRIFTER
Dr. James E. Martin
June 8, 2006
The stranger rode wearily into town,
Wondering where, at night, he’d be found.
Would he still be looking for lodging?
Or would he, the wind and dust still be dodging?
As he carefully tied his steed to the gate,
He momentarily questioned, had he arrived too late?
The town seemed empty to his curious eye,
Perhaps, he should have ridden on by.
After many days of baking in the sun,
Had he made another dead-end run?
He walked down the street, no sound to be heard,
Not even the occasional song of a bird.
He thought as he, into the saddle did climb,
“I sure missed out, this time!”
Away he rode in a cloud of dust,
To find a place with life, I must!
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