The Shootist

The Shootist

By Nancy Davis.

His eyes are cold, his jaw is set, he’s ready for the kill.
He hasn’t met his equal yet, believes he never will.
A gun for hire, he does aspire, the devil’s game to play,
he baits his quest, he’s done his best, it’s time to earn his pay.

The lonely man, can’t understand, that he has bought his fame,
that in the end, he’ll have no friend, and all will curse his name.
The mother’s son who feels undone, can’t let the insults slide.
So there they stand, with guns at hand, two fools who value pride.

The stage is set and you can bet that everyone is there
to watch the fight that sets things right; excitement’s in the air.
The shootist waits believing hate’s a friend in time of need,
but he is slow, his shot is low, now it’s his time to bleed.

Alas, the boy who shouts with joy, has earned the shootist’s fame.
He won the fight, but from tonight he’ll never be the same.

Nancy Davis: I have been writing poetry seriously for two years now. I love sonnets and I tend to do the dramatic and sad although I am normally a happy person except for the loss of my husband which prompted me to write. My poetry comes from my heart and it comforts me. I love poetry and I am learning more about it every day!

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