Not a
natural student of Shakespeare,
Comedies,
tragedies and histories,
I stifled
yawns, gave them all a wide berth,
Not much
to interest, excite or please.
I
lumbered through classic literature,
Found
most of it a monumental pain,
But I
found much happier reading trails
In Jack
Schaefer’s western story, “Shane”.
Catechism
and cowboys, my education base,
A gods
and toy guns head-in-the-clouds kid
Blessed
with false bravado and cheeky face,
Quiet, shy,
but in my head, intrepid.
In all my good, bad and ugly choices,
My guides are buckskin-clad, drawling voices.
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