Born Out West
Born along the side of a dusty
trail, God's soul clinging
to my sacred
toes,
A wagon wheel in front of me,
I saw a circle of thoughts
roll by my sinful
nose.
Empyrean mountains, where
imagination blooms, years
of yesterday are
best,
Never again will I feel a spiritual
reverence, like I felt right
after birth, in the old
West.
Yorktown Disciple
Born along the side of a dusty
trail, God's soul clinging
to my sacred
toes,
A wagon wheel in front of me,
I saw a circle of thoughts
roll by my sinful
nose.
Empyrean mountains, where
imagination blooms, years
of yesterday are
best,
Never again will I feel a spiritual
reverence, like I felt right
after birth, in the old
West.
Yorktown Disciple
Order # 11479
Quatrain of Born Out West - 11479 - Yorktown Disciple
Poem Sanctum
©Yorktown Disciple
All rights reserved
All rights reserved
A
wagon
wheel
in
front
of
me
wagon
wheel
in
front
of
me