The Cowboy

“Sara,” a voice called
in the middle of night.
Sounded like Dad.
I sprang up like
a coiled spring,
opened my eyes
hoping to see him,
but there, instead,
sat a benign cowboy
in checkered shirt,
blue jeans, a red
neckerchief, and authentic
cowboy hat-smiling
at the foot of the bed.
“Look, look,” I screamed,
poking my husband
in the shoulder, waking
him out of a sound sleep.
He sat up; he surveyed
the room.  “There is no one
there.  Go back to sleep.”
But, even as he said
those words, the cowboy
continued to sit and smile.
I rubbed my eyes; I closed
my eyes.  When I peeked,
he was still there.  To this day
I cannot believe my husband
could not see him.


Written for: first/
Write a poem about ghosts, or spirits, or scares that is
exactly 31 words or 31 lines.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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8 Responses to The Cowboy

  1. says:

    got a brother?


  2. Spooky!! Good to bump into you it’s been a while 🙂


  3. lolamouse says:

    ooh, that’s creepy! I had an experience as a child where I saw a woman standing against my wall. I started jumping on the bed and yelling for the mom. She walked in but, of course, didn’t see anything. It still creeps me out to this day!

    BTW, love your blog background!


  4. Mike Bayles says:

    I like this poem.


Comments are closed.