BADLAND TRAILS My pony's bridle lays across a hay bail. A black saddle straddles a fence post rail. From blurry eyes a tear drop may fall. Ghostly apparitions of a memory to recall. In days of youth mounting from fence rails, rider on pony would wander endless trails. My mount would forever faithfully guide, when crossing haunted badlands at a stride. Quotes; I am delighted by the romanticism of the poetry, making light of the hardships. I want to be a cowboy and live in the romantic era of open trails and endless plains. The cowboy life is humorous when looked at by Mr. Cheeks-Too-Soft.