It’s ‘Ghost Riders In The Sky’ tonight.
Daddy takes the performer’s stance
As I peer over the counterpane
Awaiting the tale’s unfolding.
He sings of cowboys, steers and dust,
The life of the trail, precarious, bleak,
Of loneliness and weary limbs,
The day’s harsh light, the night’s harsh cold.
And nothing but whiskey and cards for comfort.
No soft, warm wife, no child’s sweet kiss,
No home his own nor friend, save one,
And horses make poor companions.
Those ghosts gallop into eternity
(I pray they won’t come back again)
And Daddy bows to kiss my cheek
Reminding me softly to go to sleep.
I am a most obedient child
Afraid to move, and so disturb
The perfect smoothness of the sheet
My Daddy so lovingly tucked around.
First published in Reach
Eleanor Dent's poetry 