An Old Friend Lost


Once worn daily on a ranch it stays on a nail now,
Its past life forgotten.
So many trips through plain and hills,
As Indians fought and gunshots were fired
As men riding horseback greeted their ladies,
When cattle were herded across miles of land.
The brim helped keep sun out of eyes and sweat off brows,
But all of these stories are now forgotten.
This well-worn friend full of holes,
Now stays as still as its stories trapped within,
Never to be relived, only to be put back as
A part of America's past.
Southern hospitality gone and a new age beginning
This old friend is still lost in time.

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