Searching For Billy.

[thestoryteller]

SEARCHING FOR BILLY

It was just before sunrise that morning in Spring
when the telephone barked out its long piercing ring
and reluctant to answer I rubbed both my eyes
til a plea midst loud weeping took me by surprise.
On the end of the line, in a terrible state,
was my darling, young daughter we fondly called Kate
and she mumbled mid tears "Dad I'm sorry to phone,
but young Billy's horse Treacle's come home on his own.

"He rode over to Blakely's to visit young Skye,
but I've rung and they say that he never called by.
We found Treacle this morning in front of the yards
and the chance he's met harm now seems quite on the cards.
My Jim's roused all the men and they're saddling their mounts;
Can you please come and join them; each moment now counts?"
"I'll be over in ten and Kate...saddle the roan!
And girl ring your big sister... don't stay there alone."

As the dawn yawned that morning to greet a new day,
we were saddled and ready and rode on our way.
The grim silence reflected the mood of the crew,
As each pondered...what harm had young Billy come to.
"It's a fair chance," I muttered "he's cut through the pine
and then crossed Wilys Creek. It's near a straight line."
"That's a fair estimation," Jim said in reply,
"with the dry setting in old Wily's is dry."

The pine country revealed fresh hoof prints on the ground
and more signs showed he'd crossed Wilys creek safe and sound.
Then a hundred yards on, no further than that,
lying there on the grass was young Billy's black hat.
And a line of wild flowers, hand picked, led from there,
like a trail freshly laid, but by whom and to where?
It was puzzling for sure as to where this trail led
when I reined up and noticed an object ahead.

In the grass lay a body, the frame of a lad,
his poor face was all swollen and looking real bad.
He was breathing, but barely, though what caught my sight
were the few broken flowers he clung to so tight?
On the cheek of his face was the sting of a bee
and what happened to Billy was now clear to me.
He had stopped to pick flowers to give to his gal,
when a bee went and stung him and caused him to swell.

He had tried to ride on losing flowers as he did,
til he fell from the saddle; the lovesick poor kid.
His old Treacle went home and had raised the alarm
causing us to believe he had come to some harm.
So this tale has an ending that's not filled with gloom
As a year down the track Bill became a bridegroom.
And my Kate and her Jim, with no word of a lie
Have a daughter-in-law; the delightful young Skye.

http://www.cowboypoetry.com/artspur5.htm#Searching

We invite poets to let selections of Western art and photography inspire their poetry. Kent Rollins' photograph, which he calls "Ridin' Out."

[alongtimegone]

Love happy endings Merv.
Wazza

[thestoryteller]

Goodonya Wazza.

These challenges help keep the old grey matter from seizing up.

Thanks for sharing mate.



Merv.