The Four O'clock Cowgirl She comes in from the fields Matted hat hair, Dirt painted face The look and smell Of a rugged rodeo clown. Her haggardness hangs in the air Like a cloud of dust. And then she smiles. A smile like the bloom Of a 'four o'clock' in the late Afternoon. The rarity of the hour She opens up. A short lived beauty Worth the other twenty three. Fools only see the beauty in the hour. I always see The beauty of the flower.
Robert Collier's Questions:
I learned to write in the class room of Elton Glasier, but that was over
ten years ago, I have little time to write, but it is becoming more important
This work is typical of my skills, I know the last three lines need a lot of work and probably much more than that.. Because I don't have much time to write your help would be greatly appriciated.