She’s a modern day hippie,

A cowgirl at heart,

with her raggedy jeans

and worn-down old boots;

Her hair’s flyaway

and her skin brown and dry,,

Her nails chipped and broken,

Her shirt creased and worn;

She gets by with some help

from a few hippie friends,

and seldom knows when

Her day’s work will end;

She takes in the strays,

Dogs, cats, and birds

and I’ve seen chickens scratch

across a living room floor

that has been spread with grain.

There’s a tortoise that sleeps

in a old sewing basket

That she keeps in a closet

Rescued from the street

Where he had strayed.

Her children abhor the

lifestyle she keeps,

when a teacher complained

about her daughter’s attire,

she clammed up when she met

the child’s mother, instead.

She worked at the wildlife station

until she couldn’t pay her rent–

the pay was a pittance–

her clothes from a thrift store


She had her own horse,

a stallion named “Cash”

Because, she said,

if nothing else, she

always had cash.

She drives an old pickup

with bald worn out tires,

but it gets her

wherever she goes;

she hangs out at a bar

filled with cowboys and drunks

but receives a warm welcome

where ever she goes.

She can guzzle a beer

with a tequila chaser,

Just as good as all of

the guys;

Her son married proper

and has two kids,

but keeps them as far

from grandma as he can

-But she’s a free spirit

and always will be,

whether approved or not

by the rest of the world.



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