He enters saloons with a swagger,
smiles faintly and touches his hat;
he strolls to the bar for a whisky
-- I'd like to be almost like that.
No worry can cloud his tough features
that life's hardest knocks put in place;
his broad, muscled shoulders are leaned on
by women adoring his grace.
His face - finely chiselled and handsome -
exudes endless self-absorbed calm;
his icy-blue eyes are enchanting,
and men sadly envy his charm.
With a slow, steady hand and a grimace,
he drinks pensively, looking grim.
That clenched jaw! That simmering passion!
In my next life, please let me be him.