The Note Poem by John Yaws

I sat down at the table,
In the shady, roadside park-
Tired from all my driving-
Thought I'd rest till nearly dark-
The desert lay behind me-
And mountains up ahead...
I found the folded note then-
And this is what it said...
"I know this is no bottle-
And I'm not near the sea...
But I'd like to think somebody-
Would wonder about me.
I sat here with my suitcase-
And watched the cars go by...
And guessed their destinations,
And wanted so to cry.
I left the girl who loved me-
And friend, I loved her so-
But I just had to try my luck...
And follow rodeo."
That's where the writing ended-
I guess he got a ride...
But that note hit me where I lived...
Somewhere down deep inside.
My mind went back to sixty-eight...
When I too said "Goodbye"-
My blonde haired, childhood sweetheart
Likewise hung her head to cry...
More than thirty years have passed-
But this much do I know...
I'd do it all again, you see?
To follow rodeo.
I hope he makes the Finals-
You know, I never did...
I hope he finds it worth it-
I envy that poor kid.
He got his ride, I'm stuck with mine-
I'd trade with him, I know-
My briefcase for his rigging sack-
My job, his rodeo.