Fathers Day

     By Christopher Bowman

The witching hour has past
...Silver saddle dreams of youth
traded for ponytails and graduations,
turn the clock hands so quickly
that the silver mantle reflected
now the trophy possessed,
the lines run deeply across
the reflection
a shadow that is all that remains
 of yesterdays cowboy.
Leather and latago traded
for time cards and car pools
winding slowly along,
the reward of choices made long ago
now carried with more pride
than silver buckles won,
smiles reflected back in a rear view mirror
filled with children now the silver saddle
coveted and polished daily,
the rodeo cowboy found at last
the go round of his youthful dreams,
now stands bruised and battered,
hat raised in a champions arena
called Father's Day.....