Growin’ Old With Harley

This poem was inspired by a post I read from my pal, Duane Nelson, who was grieving about his aging horse, and by a painting by my amigo, Gregory Mayse.

Growin’ Old With Harley

Look at you my trusty old friend
You, my once-in-a-lifetime horse
You must be 'bout twenty-five now
You’re the best I ever had, of course 

Recall when we’d work the day long,
Cowboyin’ can’t see through can?
Just livin’ the life we were born to
Like our kind since cowboyin’ began?

Now, well we’re just plum tuckered
Me, I’m holdin' up this stout tree
Mindlessly scratchin’ ol’ Shep's ears
'Spect we're due some loafin’ we three

It’s a bittersweet tender memory
Ponderin' the tests we’ve won
The day was we were the very best,
But now it seems we’re about done

I recall days back in your prime
When I'd mornin' rattle the oat pan
I knew you'd run from the north forty
You'd come gallopin’ as fast as you can

You walk with some restriction now
Purty much slow moseyin'  like me
Reckon we're wearing out old pard
This might be the best it's gonna be

I seen your heart was in it, but
After brush poppin' last week for Fred,
Come morn you was mighty stove up
Truth is we both wanted stayin’ abed

I'm thinkin' the worst might be
Even if I've still got the want-to
When you get too crippled up
New colt breakin' I just cain't do

And I really don't 'spect I can afford
To buy a new horse near as good
With savvy and stick like you, Friend
Wouldn't want to even if I could

It looks like we might be gettin'
To that age where our sweet times
Are more behind us than in front,
But we still recall them in rhymes

Maybe it's time we should face it
And just mosey to the diner at sunup
For coffee and lyin' to our pards
To see who we can best 'one-up'

But just once before we sell our tack
Lets show 'em we can still ride
Let me warm that mornin' blanket
And toss it onto your backside

Then we'll trailer out to the pens
And drag a few to the fire
Showin' 'em our sand and 'can-do'
One more time ere we retire

Might be they'll remember us, Harley,
When our pards gather at the cafe
They just might agree we were the team
Who did more'n our share every day

by Rik "Yonder" Goodell

© 2025 All rights reserved

This painting, by Gregory Mayse, of three pards having a rest, speaks to me of the friendships and loyalty that develop between a cowboy and his critters over some years of tough trails.

For more of this artist's work, go to his website:

https://www.gregorymayse.com/