Ethereal Moments The Poetry of Donavon Scott Vinson
Desperado
Silently I sit upon my lathered steed
watching the canyons below under the
hot Arizona sun searching for the
angry posse on my back trail.
Sweat and dust streaks my sunburned
face as I silently reflect upon that
fateful day in the streets of that
old cow town where I gunned down the
wrong man in the heat of the July sun.
I take out my old bag and slowly roll
a smoke thinking about the fate that
shall befall me if they catch me
and shudder at the thought of the
hangman's noose wrapped tightly
round my battle scarred neck.
Donavon Scott Vinson
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