The Way I Remember Him

A tribute to working cowboys of past and present.

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By Jack “Trey” Allen

His boots looked a hundred years old
they’d seen 10,000 miles and more
They’s scuffed up dirty except for the spots
worn smooth by the spurs that he’d wore

Levi’s adorned his twisted bowed legs
faded pale from years in the sun
His belt was remnant of an old harness strap
fastened with some buckle he’d won

His shirt was just a remnant, too
torn and patched and half untucked
If it could’ve talked, it mighta told the story
of all the hard seasons he’d bucked

His shoulders set straight and firm
though not as firm as they once may have been
They spoke of a man who’d done a life’s work
and would gladly do it again

His gray hair told of the wisdom
he gained from years on the range
of horses he’d rode, friends he’d outlived
and all the things that he’d seen change

The line of his jaw set crooked but hard
Seemed it was chiseled outta stone
And the lines on his face, like the wrinkles on his hands,
seemed to cut clear to the bone

The gaze from his icy blue eyes
Could almost bore a hold plumb through
But there was nothing to warm your heart like a smile
from that ancient buckaroo.

Trey Allen worked on ranches in Colorado, Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas, and wrote poetry that he recited at gatherings all over the United States. He was featured in the article “Iron Will” in the April 2015 issue of Western Horseman. He lost his three-year battle with multiple myeloma cancer in July, but the poems he left behind are a tribute to working cowboys of past and present.

 

Tags: CowboysNational Day of the CowboyJack"Trey" Allen