The Drifting Savior

Coming from the East
fast and vindictive;
Heed the high black smoke
rolling down the true track
heading West.

Strapped with a rustic spade across his back,
armed with a loaded.44,
six names etched in the rounds,
soon to go under.

Town folk
welcome this hired drifter
dressed in black;
dusty roads are vacant no children at play,
instead watching from their windows
waiting hoping to see the one in black.

Pleas from the robbers of women and children
cannot be heard,
covered by the heavy song of unforgiving vultures.

Pushed to their knees in the red dirt
a deep drag from his stubby cigar
thick Kentucky Cheroot smoke,
the hot steel barrel of his.44 pressed against the desperado's head;
Drifter's head hung low, from his hoarse throat he spoke
the words
"Hell calls Hell, One misstep leads to another"
righteous death
One by one; falling into their shallow graves
dug far out in the Nevada desert.

Per his celebration,
whiskey is poured in glasses through the town
women with their young children walk the drifter
to the train bidding farewell to the hired savior.

He hath understand the concept of redemption.


  • Lovett4166

    I'm proud of this one. :)

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