Sheila, the Lone, High Desert Outhouse

~Sheila, the Lone, High Desert Outhouse~

 

She stood alone with the humble sagebrush

and ancient lava flows of the high, western, desert.

 

On occasion, antelope or jackrabbits would happen along

to give her the eye, and now and then rattlesnakes

would leave the minimal shade of low plantlife

to stop briefly near her, but, other than those brief encounters,

along with the wind, the sky and its holdings,

she knew nothing but utter solitude,

until, one day, off in the distance,

a man on horseback appeared.

 

As he rode closer, Sheila, the lone, high desert outhouse,

could see the rider sat tall in his saddle,

and when he dismounted in front of her,

she approved of his clean, white, cowboy hat

and the snug-fitting jeans secured at his waist

with a wide, leather belt, complete

with ornate, silver buckle.

 

And oh, how her heart flippity-flapped,

while her crescent-moon eye widened,

as the handsome stranger  

slowly opened her door,

ducked his head,

and went in.

 

D. B. Tompsett

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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