Till My Hand Is Stilled By Death
By Gunslinger
I was an outlaw and a killer. But that was long ago... Now the years and my arthritis- Have combined to make me slow... I grew up in West Texas- With the sagebrush and the sand- And wandered that wild country, From the Red to Rio Grande. I did my share of wrong, I guess And hurt some people, too. And all of us must give account, I’m told, when life is through. I’ve called ‘em like I’ve seen ‘em- And played what I was dealt. And hidden my emotions, Never showing what I felt. But life’s sun is sinking lower- In the sky off to the West. So I’ll live each day I’m granted, And I'll try to do my best. My friends and most my family- Have all gone on before... And I too shall make the crossing- Like all flesh, before it’s o’er. But until this heart quits beating- And I’ve drawn my final breath... I will write the things I’m feeling- Till my hand is stilled by death. Written January 31st, 2002 © on Jan 31 2002 07:42 AM PST, John R. Yaws 0 • 10
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"I was an outlaw and a killer...."