Poetry / The Rider

I shave not by the sunset, nor morning dew.
I ride by worn saddle the whole night through.
I move by speed of utmost haste,
And bust the earth beneath my feet no time to waste!

The heat demeans my furrowed brow,
Through it’s visage I will not bow!
Though the miles are many I will not digress,
Purely because it’s my job as the Pony Express!

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