Not a natural student of Shakespeare,
Comedies, tragedies and histories,
I stifled yawns, gave them all a wide berth,
Not much to interest, excite or please.
I lumbered through classic literature,
Found most of it a monumental pain,
But I found much happier reading trails
In Jack Schaefer’s western tale, “Shane”.
Catechism and cowboys, my education base,
A gods and toy guns head-in-the-clouds kid
Blessed with false bravado and cheeky face,
Quiet, shy, but in my head, intrepid.
In all my good, bad and ugly choices,
My guides have been buckskin-clad, drawling voices.
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