The Last Ride *** in memory of the bull rider that rides on in my dreams*** He looked at me and smiled, then he kissed my hand, and swore that he'd be waiting, for me after I ran. Well Doc and I made 15, took us second place, and got that smiled from him, that made my pulse race. He followed me to the trailer, though he still had to ride, but he praised me for my win, his voice full of pride. I settled in the stands, while he settled in the chutes, and the bull that he had drawn, was a big black brute. He looks up at me, his smile a mile wide, then he cowboyed up, and settled to make his ride. Well he nodded for the gate, to the roar of the fans, but the pride was ll mine, he was my bull riding man. The clock ticked by so slowly, as the bull began to spin, and I couldn't stop myself, from hiding my grin. But fate had other plans, that hot summer day, and you know that you can't stop it, when it's meant to be that way. His rope it snapped in two, as the bull lurched in the air, and my cowboy hit the dirt, well the rest it isn't fair. When the big bull landed, it happened with a thud, the bull it stepped right on him, and stole the one I loved. Shock and pain filled me, when he didn't get to his feet, and suddenly I was very cold, despite the humid heat. He left me that day, but his smile is in my mind, and though it's been awhile now, I think of him all the time. When I see a bull rider, climb into the chutes, ready to nod out, and ride the big brute. I still see the smile, and feel him inside, kinda like he never left, or made that last damn ride. by Jenn La Rose              Return to homepage  Return to poem list