El Muerte

By Andrew R. Duckworth

Photo and editing by Andrew R. Duckworth
A pale horse
A pale horse with a ghostly man
With bullets holes from toe to hand
Ride alone with no criminal band,
But haunt the old Texas land,
With no head about his neck.

Vidal was the man put to rest,
But now rides to put folk to test,
Haunting their thoughts, invading dreams.
He can be found if you follow the screams,
Out in the old outlaw west.

He rides out there and rides alone
Making not one town his home.
He has a score to settle somewhere
Out there in the dusty outlaw air,
On his pale horse, riding nowhere.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s