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I wrote this for my grandpa for his birthday. I don't write poetry very often, but when I do, it usually ends up looking like cowboy poetry (with the occasional exception). So many people have shared their creations, so I thought I'd throw one of mine into the mix.
Always the same,
It’ll never change.
From the coast of New England,
To back home on the range.
With fancies like theme parks,
And Californian surfers,
I can’t wait to get home,
To Ma’s cabbage burgers.
Back to my sweet mountains,
And lives moving at slow paces,
To see my friends and kin,
With sun leathered faces.
But a storm’s overhead,
And the ground’s covered with rain.
Don’t you go worrying now,
We’ll be riding again.
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