The wind and rain withers away
at the face of the young man.
His old felt hat
with a tear in the back
shades his big brown eyes.
Filled with wisdom and strength,
and love in his face, her teardrops start to fall.
As the big brown bay steps away,
she bows her head to pray.
They come and they go,
never to stay,
but wander away.
The range is what he calls home.
He works and she slaves,
he hunts and she trades.
As she waits for him to come home.
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