He looks into her eyes
And sees the torment in her soul,
And his heart sinks deep within him.
He dare not leave this angel behind,
But cannot torture her anymore,
And his heart shrinks deep within him.
He places his worn hat atop his head,
Adjusting it just over his eyes,
And pulls his denim jacket
Around his broad shoulders
As he heads for the door.
He stops to tell her that he loves her,
But the words meet a cold stare,
And the shrivel deep into his throat
Tasting like day old coffee and bread.
His eyes shift away from this angel
That he has tortured so much
In so little time.
He drags the heel of his boots
As he nears the door that leads into nothingness,
And stops one more time
To see his tortured angel and dearest friend
Standing there in solemn grimness.
They say angels and cowboys
Would always be, and he believed it to be true,
He opens the door into the darkness,
The world from where he came,
And pauses one last time to try and say
The feelings that are more real than
Life itself to him,
But the words do not come.
A tear escapes the corner of his eye
And traces down the lines of his
Rugged face as he picks up his guitar--
Stepping closer to the door.
He glances one more time at the angel
That fell from Heaven
And lifted him to a place where
Only she could take him.
He'd been through the depths of hell,
And she took him to Heaven's gates,
And now, he has tortured the one thing
He truly loves.
He steps out the door without a good bye,
And disappears onto the open range,
Swallowed by the world,
And letting this angel be free.
The tears start to flow uncontrollably,
As he sits in the darkness and cold,
The sound of his horse sputtering
In the night, and he sings to himself
In a hushed voice--
Singing a song of an angel,
And the tears continue to fall.
Often, it is all over,
When a cowboy learns to cry.
Robert J Nye (2008)
