The Lone Gunman

The night was a cold December,
Lit with stars sapphire,
The moon of the northern sky,
Seemed drowned in despair

There was a strange chill in the air,
As a white horse trotted down the woods,
It came upon a small cabin,
The one that belonged to Jason Rudd

The sound of the hooves,
Brought the lights on in there,
Out came a healthy man,
With his own riding gear

He walked straight up to the horse,
And patted softly on its back,
Then put the saddle and harnessed,
And pulled out the slender strap

He wore a cowboy hat,
With his jeans up and tight,
The shirt was tucked in,
And the guns shone in the moon light

There was one on each side,
Like two silver rods,
They were his companions,
Beside the sturdy white horse

He then hopped on his animal,
Gave a slight whip,
The beast galloped straight,
To begin a new trip

A short ride took them past,
A row of sleepy homes,
The countryside was quite,
Not even a dog would roam

Jason was the sheriff,
In charge of people’s lives,
But no one was around,
When death took away his wife

The government then woke up,
Gave Jason the arms,
He brought the criminals to justice,
And crime was disarmed

Since then everybody sleeps,
As peacefully as they can,
As out rides Jason Rudd,
The lone Gunman.


-Manas Sengupta
Originally written- 02/12/2009