“Ballad of the Fallen Gunslinger”

In lands where dust and sun entwine,

‘Neath skies of endless blue,

There rode a man, his fate to find,

An outlaw through and through.

His name was etched in whispers wild,

In towns where shadows crept,

A gunslinger, fate’s own child,

In secrets, tightly kept.

With every dawn, his legend grew,

A specter in the night,

His gun, a flash of lightning’s hue,

A harbinger of fright.

But time, the thief, no man can flee,

Nor outrun destiny’s reach,

In a town where winds spoke of the sea,

His end they would beseech.

For there, a marshal, stern and just,

With eyes like winter’s frost,

Awaited, bound by law and trust,

For lines that must be crossed.

The duel, it came at high noon’s bell,

Two shadows on the ground,

A dance of fate, a tolling knell,

In silence, profound.

The gunslinger, with eyes of coal,

Faced justice’s unwavering gaze,

Two shots rang out, one final toll,

End of his renegade days.

Now whispers tell of how he fell,

The outlaw known so wide,

In tales of old, the legends swell,

Of the day the gunslinger died.

In the West, where myths are born and bred,

And truths are hard to glean,

The story of his life is read,

In the land of the unseen.