High Noon

Words are like weapons

High Noon

A cowboy from another time
Passing through the day
An outlaw wanted for a crime
For a poster, he will pay
A drifter wanting more than this
More than he will concede
An old saloon, familiar kiss
A place to rest misdeeds
Where ghosts of former guns can rest
Peaceful, where they fell
Remembered fondly, with the best
… intentions paving hell
leaving a redemption sought
In triggered fingers, iron sights
Rounds spent with blood money bought
The gunman's hammer bites
Snaps down, trigger fingers quick
Like a mouse trap, bullets spring
Habits long formed, linger, stick,
and tumbleweeds, they sing
Blown across a barren plain
A cautionary tale
On arid winds, the bards explain
The places where he failed
At dawn he watched the bullets fly
By dusk, he'd read the note
He fired till the gun ran dry
… and that was all she wrote