At 3:30 in the Morning
I miss just the two of us in the truck, flying down the freeway at 3:30 in the morning.
I feel lost in the driver's seat without you to my right.
The truck feels empty on the way to a rodeo.
The truck feels empty on the way to anywhere.
The tack room feels off without your saddle on the rack.
I don't feel right walking anywhere being just one of the two of a kind.
I feel like my other half has dissolved and I just keep wishing it would reappear.
There's one less coffee cup since you've gone.
One less saddle, one less hackamore, one less braid and one less heart.
Mine's just here wishing for you.
My hat sets lonely on the hat rack, my ragged old boots have lost their accomplice on the mud room floor.
Your horse is nickering for you from where he stands in the pasture, wondering just where you've run off to.
But you've gone to where I always talk about; to ranker horses and different country.
Drifting on the breeze just like the old time cowgirls did.
So I whisper "Goodnight, sis." to the darkness knowing that you're doing the same and wishing we were in a beaten old truck, flying down the freeway at 3:30 in the morning.
Loves, Gussie <3